


Synapse

by chess_boxing



Category: Muse (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bullshit Science, Chris Deserves A Raise, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-30
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 01:17:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 84,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5111078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chess_boxing/pseuds/chess_boxing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Initial testing is a success - patient responds well and is able to communicate without difficulty. Constant imaginative activity, both constructive and destructive. Eccentric. Remarkably balanced, but showing signs of extreme loneliness and isolation. Quite good at origami.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was just after lunchtime when Dominic rounded the corner into Trafalgar Square, and London was empty. Not a soul moved up and down the city's many twisting streets, nor did cars or black taxi cabs weave between the pavements. It was common to see queues of red double-deckers shifting anxiously at the traffic lights in this part of town, but not here. It wasn't that they were motionless - it was just that they didn't exist.  
  
A light breeze ruffled blonde hair, but the air held the humid heat of an English city summer. Dominic adjusted his sunglasses, crossed the deserted street - automatically glancing both ways before he crossed, before internally rolling his eyes at the futility of the action - and scanned the Square. It was exactly as he knew it, aside from a flock of scarlet peacocks, who fluttered heavily into the air as Dominic approached. The sun blazed down on pale stone, and Nelson's column cast such a shallow shadow that he could barely see it from this angle. Beyond the column lay the roundabout and the road that split away from it, leading down toward the river in a haze of heat, where Big Ben marked the bank of the Thames. The clock face didn't seem to have hands.  
  
Impressive though they may be, it wasn't the surroundings that Dominic had come here for. Well, alright, they were _part_ of it, but he'd just spotted the far more important part, and it was much closer. It came, unsurprisingly, in the form of a man hunched over on top of one of the low stone walls that contained one of Trafalgar's two huge fountains. The man was thin, young, shirtless, and his jeans were rolled up, allowing him to lazily kick his bare feet back and forth through the pool. His hands were busy with a stack of paper. A newspaper, maybe, though he seemed more interested in folding it than reading it, and when Dominic looked closer, he realised that the water's surface was dotted with a stream of tiny paper boats. Taking his place on the wide steps that led down from the National Gallery, he sat down and watched. His inital task was to observe.  
  
He could only see his patient's back from this angle; a curved, pale line of vertebrae led up to jutting shoulderblades that shifted and flexed as his arms worked at the newspaper, and above that, almost-black, scruffily spiked hair was slicked to the back of his neck. Water droplets ran from their tips. He'd been for a swim recently, then. Dominic's eyes trailed to the pool. The sunlight glinted in endless ripples over the blue surface, and cool crystal drops burst as they tumbled from the fountain and crashed into the large stone pond below. Of course he'd gone for a swim.  
  
The man suddenly straightened, his back going rigid, and one long, pale hand lifted to shade his eyes, which were fixed on the centre of the pool. Dominic followed his gaze. One member of the fleet of paper boats was drifting dangerously close to the centre of the waterfall.  
  
"Oh, God," he heard the man call out, with a voice that spoke of equal parts excitement and dread. "Pull back, men, we can't take it! The weather's too harsh, we'll go under! She'll flounder, I tell you! _Flounder!_ "  
  
Dominic grinned involuntarily, staring at the boat, which was now rocking from side to side as it cleared the waves that spread from the point of impact. His patient had now cupped his hands around his mouth to yell properly; the man's tone wouldn't have sounded out of place in a commentary box.  
  
"It's - it's too late! She's going over! End of the road now lads, or _is it_ \- oh, she's skirting it, skirting it now, gonna be close, very tense here I can tell you, slight wave there, _oh_ Jesus, _sweet Jesus_ I cannot watch, that's a fact ladies and gentlemen, she's-" the boat toppled under the fountain's stream and plunged into the depths, swept below the flow instantly, and sank to the floor. _"-AND THERE SHE GOES! OH, THE TRAGEDY! THE HUMANITY!"_  
  
And then the man fell silent, calmly sat back down, and picked up the next piece of newspaper.  
  
Dominic stared, lips still twitching at the corners, and stood up to approach the man. He'd seen enough. His secondary task was to engage.  
  
"Hey," he called, and the man almost toppled forward into the pool in surprise. He righted himself quickly - defensively, even - and slid his feet out of the water and over the other side to acknowledge the newcomer.  
  
"And who the bloody hell are you?"  
  
Briefly recalling his training, he maintained a constant pace toward the edge of the fountain, aiming to look neither intimidating nor uninteresting. "My name's Dominic," he replied, kicking his shoes off and hoisting himself up to sit on the wall.  
  
"I didn't ask your _name,_ I asked _who_ you were," came the patient's testy response, though his legs swung back over and into the water, and he picked up the sheet of paper to continue folding. Dominic had been accepted, then.  
  
"I'm just a visitor," he answered, and he let his toes dip into the pool. The swirling of cool water around his aching feet was blissful and he continued to slip his legs in until they were underwater to mid-calf.  
  
"What d'you _mean,_ a _visitor?"_  
  
"Just visiting," he shrugged, rolling his ankles and watching little whirlpools form on the surface above.  
  
"No one _'just visits'_ me," the man retorted, curling his long fingers into sarcastic quote marks in the air.  
  
"Well, I am," Dominic said, quite coolly. "You don't need to be a dick about it. I can leave if you like, but if you let me stay, I'll buy you coffee."  
  
"Too hot for coffee," snorted the man, but then his expression softened and he met Dominic's gaze for the first time. It could have been a trick of the light, but Dominic was convinced the man's eyes were bluer than the water. "Sorry. Nah. You can stay, I could do with some company," he mumbled, settling down the latest completed boat into the water and then leaning on one arm. His head rolled thoughtfully to one side, cheek pressed into his shoulder. "And a coffee. Coffee is good in hot weather. Actually, I think it's better in hot weather than cold weather."  
  
"I... right."  
  
"But _first!"_ he exclaimed, turning to face Dominic, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How do I know you're real? How can I _trust_ you?"  
  
"I know your name is Matthew Bellamy," came the reply, and the man called Matthew rolled his eyes.  
  
"That's _hardly_ good enough, _is_ it?" One eyebrow raised. "Tell me something I couldn't know. Something we can prove, _right_ here. Then I'll know you're real, and not a figment of my imagination."  
  
Dominic nodded. He'd prepared for this. "C'mon," he said, and reluctantly pulled his legs out of the fountain. He also took off his sunglasses, sliding them into place at the neck of his tshirt. "You've been to the National Gallery before, right?"  
  
"'Course," Matthew answered, and he stood up, following Dominic as he walked toward the flight of stairs and back up to the art gallery. "A bunch of times."  
  
"Excellent." He paused for a moment as he noticed one of the scarlet peacocks flap down to land several feet away. At this distance, he could make out their plumage in much greater detail - the eyes of each feather were a bright golden, and royal purple ran in rich streaks throughout the bird's body. "Why the birds?"  
  
Matthew shrugged. "More fun than pigeons."  
  
Their journey through the deserted gallery was cool and silent, with their bare feet leaving wet footprints over mosaic floors as they made their way to the room Dominic  had memorised before venturing into Trafalgar Square. He eventually led Matthew to a room full of dark, polished wood, delicately carved pillars, and a select few royal portraits that hung in absurdly ornate gold frames. The second largest portrait in the room was the one Dominic headed for, putting his hands on Matthew's shoulders and steering him until he was staring directly at the painting.  
  
"It's a fat bloke on a horse," Matthew said bluntly.  
  
"Yep," Dominic nodded, "one fucking fat bloke. When he took off his corset, his fat rolls were said to go down to his knees."  
  
Matthew leaned closer, stroking one fingertip over the surface of the painting and feeling the grooves left in the oil paint by the brush centuries ago. "I feel sorry for the bloody horse."  
  
Dominic snorted with laughter, nodding and stepping forward to point to the plaque beside the frame. "King George the Fourth. And there's a statue of him in Trafalgar Square."  
  
"Nah there isn't," Matt sniffed, taking his finger away from the paint. "Out there it's all lions, and soldiers, and babies spitting water."  
  
"So if we find his name out there, then you'll be satisfied that I knew something you didn't about your surroundings, and therefore cannot be creation of your own mind?"  
  
Matthew suppressed a smile and spun around from the painting, already heading for the door they arrived through. "He'd better be out there, then, hadn't he?"  
  
The walk back was significantly faster and noisier, with Matthew leading the way and Dominic occasionally needing to call him back on track when he strode away down the wrong corridor, or took the wrong turning. Eventually he realised he could just follow their wet footprints from before, and the pair emerged into sunshine within minutes.  
  
Taking Matthew's arm, Dominic pulled him to their left, where he gestured to one of the four plinths at the corners of the square. It carried a statue of a man on a horse. A thin - well, a fit - man. A battle-hardened warrior at the peak of health. Matthew circled the plinth, shielding his eyes with both hands, and frowned accusingly up at the horseback figure, like if he glared hard enough it would explain itself. The sound of scuffing feet drew his gaze back to ground level, where Dominic was leaning against the plinth, smirking, slowly kicking his foot back and forth over the warm stone of the Square. Matt was just about to spit some sarcastic remark about not looking so bloody pleased with himself when he realised that the wall of plinth directly above Dom's shoulder carried a silver plaque.  
  
"Move," Matt flicked his wrist, distractedly ushering the other man out of the way, and peered in at the carved words. "King George IV, 1762-1830. King George. The fourth." He leaned back, staring up at the statue again. "Well, fuck me."  
  
"He really was massive," Dom said, wandering back down the steps and toward the fountains, Matt in tow. "The artist who he commissioned to sculpt him was terrified of offending the king, so he cut back on the fat, as it were. When it was unveiled then the public thought it was hilarious, and stories said that the artist was so embarrassed that he threw himself into the Thames and drowned."  
  
"Bit sensitive."  
  
"Just a bit." Dominic sniffed. "Probably not true, though."  
  
Matthew bent down to pick up a crumpled white tshirt by the fountain's edge (which Dominic was sure hadn't been lying there before) and pulled it over his head, though it didn't do much to cover him up - the thin material clung to his still-damp torso and adopted the colour of pale skin in places. "So," he began, "you mentioned something about buying me a coffee?"  
  
"I did." Dom's lips twitched.  
  
"You _are_ aware there's no such thing as money here, aren't you?"  
  
Dominic nodded, gleaming teeth emerging in an accidental grin.  
  
"So when you said 'I'll buy you coffee', you meant 'can we have coffee'?"  
  
"Pretty much," he confessed, looking not the least bit apologetic.  
  
"Right, well you're a tight little shit then, aren't you," Matt snorted, but it was with amusement rather than spite.  
  
"I'm not sure it's possible to be a 'tight little shit' in a world without money, do you?" Dominic shot back, and the two made to cross the street toward the nearest coffee shop, of which there were many. He noted with interest that Matthew also unconsciously flicked his head from side to side, seeking traffic that would never come. _Interesting._  
  
Matt hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head at the pavement, considering the question. "Sure you can. You don't need money to pay someone."  
  
"Ah, that's true."  
  
"For example, if we were medieval farm folk, you could pay me in chickens."  
  
"For a latte?" Dom asked, mouth quirking into a smile again. "Of course. Sixteenth century peasants were big on lattes."  
  
Matthew nodded earnestly, face serious. "Indeed they were. And if you didn't want to pay me in chickens, you could pay me in sexual favours, or you could kill off my rival farms-people, or something."  
  
"I don't think I'd kill a farmer for a coffee," Dominic frowned. They reached the coffee shop and he pushed the glass door open, holding it for Matthew as he walked through. "It'd rest on my conscience, and then I'd have to go to confession because it's the fifteen-hundreds, and then I'd have to pay the priest."  
  
"With chickens and sexual favours?" Matt asked, his composure finally slipping into giggles, and a burst of laughter left Dom's lips at the same time. "Not a particularly worthwhile trade for a latte, then."  
  
"No. Not really."  
  
Matthew had slid around to behind the counter, leaving Dominic on the customer side of the till; he leant on the desk between them and stared over at the blonde with a lopsided smile. "You can pay me in conversation, then. Haven't had any of that in a long time."  
  
"Bargain," he grinned, lifting his eyes to the chalkboard menu nailed to the wall above Matthew's head. "Just a latte."  
  
"Regular or grande?"  
  
"Is that... normal and big?"  
  
"I didn't say normal and big, Dominic, I asked if you wanted regular or grande. Oh!" Matt gasped, and he ducked below the till for a moment before re-emerging, having snatched up an official employee hat and apron from below the cash register. He pulled them on firmly, smirking, and returned to staring expectantly at Dominic. Combined with the wet-tshirt look, they utterly failed to make him look anything close to professional.  
  
"...Regular."  
  
"And is that with skimmed milk or whole milk?"  
  
"I _really_ don't care." Dom paused, and Matt began tapping one fingernail on the desk impatiently. "...Whole, then."  
  
"Any syrup with that?"  
  
"No! Just a bloody coffee!"  
  
Matt's shit-eating grin had reached Cheshire cat levels. "What if that syrup was sugar free? I have chocolate, and vanilla, and ginger- _okay_ , okay, I'll make it, _Jesus,_ " he giggled, as Dominic flipped his middle finger up and made as if to walk for the exit. Matt spun around to the preparation area behind the counter and began pulling cupboards open, placing mugs on the tabletop and retrieving milk from the fridge.  
  
"Why don't you just... get someone to do it for you?" Dominic asked with more than a slight degree of curiosity.  
  
"Eh." Matt shrugged mid-pour, and a splash of boiling liquid spread across the counter. He didn't seem to notice. "I like doing as much as I can. Passes the time. Anyway, I tried imagining people in the beginning, but they were never much good. I can only imagine things that _I_ imagine, you know? Can't imagine fresh thoughts or fresh minds, so everything they'd ever do or say was on the tip of my own tongue before it happened. Enough to drive you up the wall." Slender fingers trailed the edge of the counter for a drawer, which he slid open to take a teaspoon. "Every conversation was like talking to myself. Or, it was like I was a ventriloquist trying to hold a discussion with the puppet." Milk splashes; stirring. "Which is why," he finished, picking both lattes up carefully and sliding the cutlery drawer closed with his hip, "you're such a mystery."  
  
Dominic accepted his coffee with a mutter of thanks and they wandered back outside, leaving the cafe in a milk-splattered, spoon-strewn mess. In the time it took the glass door to swing closed after Matthew's fingers had left its handle, the counters were swept clean. Not a trace of their visit remained.  
  
The heat of the sun hit them instantly. Returning in silence toward the fountain - aside from the brief 'agh, stupid wanker' that Matt had uttered to himself upon spilling coffee over his left foot - the two set their drinks down on the wall before climbing onto its top. Matthew had begun peeling the wet tshirt from his skin again and pulled it over his head. Where Dominic's hand rested by his side, he felt his fingertips burn at the touch of heated stone; his fingers trailed up his chest to find his sunglasses, which he slid back on. He took a sip and leaned back, eyes closed, gazing into the blue of the sky as he swallowed. A sigh of contentment left his lips.  
  
And was cut short by a colossal splash.  
  
" _Fucking-_ shit, Matt! What the _hell?"_ Dom spluttered, as the brunet's head emerged from the pool, gasping happily, dark hair plastered to his face. The splash of water had actually been delightfully refreshing. Matt giggled manically, his whole body gleaming where the sun caught wet skin. He had flopped sideways into the pool rather than dived due to its depth, or lack of it, and in his current kneeling position then the choppy waterline came just to his navel. His jeans lay in a crumpled pile on the wall, but Dom could spot navy boxer shorts rippling below the water.  
  
"Shit, it's _cold!"_ Matthew yelped, crossing his arms over his chest and ducking back under for a moment. Dominic stared down blankly into the water at the writhing white figure, watching the sunlight filter through the surface to cast ever-shifting patterns across the other man's back. When he crashed upwards, the disturbance sent waves rolling through the pool before he settled in a seated position, his back leaning against the wall beside Dominic.  
  
Matt rubbed his eyes and looked back at what was now a very bedraggled looking fleet of paper boats.  
  
"Oops," he giggled, reaching behind himself to retrieve his coffee from the water's edge. His first sip was tentative. The next was sure and relaxed, comfortable in the knowledge that the drink wasn't going to scald his lips off. "Dominic, I think I'm the Kraken."  
  
Dom snorted into his drink and kicked his feet back into the crystal water to sway from side to side. "Perhaps you are. The Kraken of Trafalgar. Congratulations on your very first victory over the mighty Royal Navy."  
  
"Hear that, you old knob-jockey?" Matt suddenly yelled, twisting around in the pool to address the statue of Admiral Horatio Nelson, who was perched atop the Square's central column. "I sank your fucking Navy! I'm the fucking _Kraken!_ "  
  
Dominic gazed up at the statue, a smile playing across his lips. Nelson looked coolly down at his new military rival with mild disinterest. Dom couldn't be sure, but he was convinced the statue wasn't _usually_ set in a pose that so blatantly said 'bitch, please'. But then he'd never been much good at History.  
  
"C'mon, come in, it's only cold at the very start and then it warms up," Matthew smiled, patting the water beside him. He probably intended it to be an inviting gesture but it was water and so all it did was create further splashing, but the blonde was already more than tempted. He could feel the sun burning through his dark shorts to create a stinging heat on the skin below, and his body was starting to slick with sticky sweat.  
  
"But I'll get my clothes wet," he whined, already putting down his drink to begin pulling his tshirt over his head. The pendant of his necklace swung against his chest as he closed his eyes, let his legs fall fully into the fountain, and slid down - still wearing his shorts - into the sparkling water. It washed up his body and he sank further, crouching, hissing slightly in delight as it cooled his skin and lapped at his chest. A half-giggle from his left, and he realised Matthew was grinning at his expression.  
  
"Good, isn't it?"  
  
Dominic could only nod, retrieving his coffee and lifting it to his lips again. The pair sat in silence until the bottom of their mugs emerged, bathing in the summer heat. Occasionally a light breeze would stir up the fountain, and a fine spray would drift across to cool their upper bodies as well. It was some time before he realised that it was almost the end of his shift.  
  
"I've got to get going," he announced, replacing his cup on the wall and rolling his head to look at Matthew. The other man's arms were stretched out to either side of him across the top of the wall, but at Dominic's words then he sat up straight, eyes snapping open.  
  
"Oh. Alright, then."  
  
"Not that I want to leave," Dom added, teeth showing in a grin, "but it's just my time to go."  
  
"It's alright, no problem. Sure." Matthew nodded, fingers trailing across the water to snatch up a paper boat. He began to play with it, running it in bobbing motions over the surface's ripples. It was only by watching very closely that Dominic noticed the distress in the young man's eyes. He didn't bother to replace his shirt as he climbed out.  
  
"Don't worry, I'll be back," he assured, taking his sunglasses off. The sun had gone in all of a sudden, though a glance at the sky told him there weren't any clouds.  
  
"...You _promise?_ "  
  
"Course," he smiled. The paper boat was released, but Matt didn't look particularly comforted.  
  
"Okay."  
  
There was a long, long pause, and he was just about to turn away and walk off when Matthew broke the silence.  
  
"Dom, can I maybe have a hug?"  
  
The blonde's eyes widened with surprise and he stopped, still. "Er... I-"  
  
"You know," Matt cut him off, hands twisting anxiously below the water, "it's just been a while."  
  
Dominic's eyes scanned the Square; the deserted streets, the coffee shop that had no staff, and the bus stops that no one would ever wait at.  
  
"Of course," he replied quietly, face softening. Matthew clambered gracelessly out of the fountain, and hopped off the wall to nervously face the blonde. A moment of unsure quiet, and then Dominic stepped forward and pulled the other man into his arms.  
  
He was small, and fragile, but Dominic felt the tension in those slim shoulders fade away with the embrace. He could feel thin arms wind their way around his back and squeeze hard, clinging, pressing their damp chests together with shy but desperate need. Without even thinking, he shushed the brunet, stroking one hand up and down his back and the other through his wet hair. Matthew hummed gratefully and held on, eyes closed tight and lips twitching into a smile. When Dominic finally let him go, the sun was blazing down on London again and his eyes were shining.  
  
"I'll see you, then," Matt told him, and turned his back to wander back to the pool. Dom grinned down at the hot ground as he walked away. He left a trail of wet footprints across the stone until he walked out of sight, and then he was gone.  
  
  
  
  
_Therapist: Dominic Howard_  
_Logins: 1_  
_Subject: Matthew Bellamy_  
_Notes: Initial testing is a success - patient responds well and is able to communicate without difficulty. Constant imaginative activity, both constructive and destructive. Eccentric. Remarkably balanced, but showing signs of extreme loneliness and isolation. Quite good at origami._

  
  


  



	2. Chapter 2

Red light filtered through tiny red-framed windows when Dominic stepped into the world for the second time. It took a couple of blinks to adjust, and then he realised he was looking at a tree in the deep scarlet of autumn. It was just outside, and he was watching it from the dark insides of a small red wooden house - a hut, even - and behind its grid of windows. A bit like looking through the trellis that he remembered from the back garden in his old house, but without the ivy climbing all over it. The windows were glassless, and he found himself poking his finger through the nearest hole to trace its edges curiously, before the sound of a shifting movement behind him caught his attention.  
  
The floorboards were pale and greyish, with cushions strewn across their surface and a small rug in the centre. There was only one door and it opened onto the same whitish-grey, smooth decking. Soft grooves, red painted railings, and then the glassy expanse of a motionless lake. Dominic's footsteps echoed beneath the floorboards and he realised that the house was built mere inches above the water's surface. Another shifting noise. It was coming from outside; Matt was on the decking that overlooked the water.  
  
Stepping across the threshold, Dominic felt cool, post-summer air on his skin. It was the kind of temperature you don't really get to appreciate unless you're on holiday someplace. When you're home, post-summer is really just the first few days of autumn, where the decision to wear a scarf becomes one of comfort rather than aesthetics. It's the disappointing slope away from the heat of the British summer, and just past the unpredictable heatwaves of September. Out of context, however, Dominic let it fill his lungs. It was bright out here. Red leaves were floating on the lake, and its banks were thick with blossoming fruit trees.  
  
Matthew was just to his left, where the decking wound down shallow steps toward a larger wooden platform, again built over the lake. Hadn't noticed him yet. He was lounging in one of a pair of deckchairs made from the same wood has the floor - they had been painted red to match the hut, but were chipping in so many places that Dom could see the pale grey peeking through from underneath. Between the chairs was a small table that held a terracotta teapot, and a similarly coloured teacup was delicately balanced in one of Matt's hands. His fingers curled around its base, thumb tapping out a vague rhythm on the side.  
  
"Hey," Dominic said softly, trying not to shock the other man. "Back."  
  
Matthew twisted in his seat and flicked his head as a sudden breeze swept a section of his fringe into his eyes. His face instantly split into a delighted grin when he noticed the blonde, who was clearing the last of the stairs to join him in the second chair. "Hi, Dom."  
  
"Hello again," came the response. Dominic was about to sit down when he cut himself short, stopping still and staring down at Matthew's reclining figure. "I - what're you wearing?"  
  
"Least I'm actually _wearing_ something this time," Matt grinned, stretching out an arm to admire the way the kimono's sleeves draped down. The crimson fabric slid and collected into silken folds in the crook of his elbow, revealing a startlingly thin wrist. The entire garment fell in fluid curves down his body, occasionally clinging to skin and revealing the tiny frame beneath, but otherwise it hung off his limbs and into scarlet slopes off the edges of the deckchair. A black phoenix writhed across his left hip whenever he shuffled in his seat.  
  
"It's... er..."  
  
"It's a kimono!" Matthew chirped happily, "because I'm a Jap now."  
  
"You can't just turn into a Jap-" Dom started, stuttering on the term in case it was racist, "...anese person."  
  
"Yeah I can," he said dismissively, sipping at his tea. "I'm a Jap, you're a Jap, we're in Japland."  
  
"I'm not a Jap," Dominic replied defensively, though a closer look at his environment did indeed suggest that he was in 'Japland'. The hut behind him had the traditional curved roof of all those Japanese places he'd seen in films, and the plants surrounding them certainly included bamboo and cherry trees and things that the television had told him were from Japan. In fact, the entire garden radiated the spirit of the oriental.  
  
"Your kimono says otherwise," Matthew smirked.  
  
_I'm not wearing a-_  
  
Dom stared down at the black swathes of silk that were wrapped around his body. Cream dragons curled around his ankles, and a strip of the same colour was tied in a loose knot around his waist. He was amazed he hadn't noticed it before, actually. When he shifted to sit down beside Matthew, the silk slid deliciously against his skin. He almost shivered.  
  
"I'm pretty sure that wearing a kimono doesn't make you Japanese, Matthew," he snorted.  
  
"D'you like it?" Pale fingers slid on a terracotta teapot to pour into a second cup, which Dominic knew hadn't been there before. He accepted the drink with a smile.  
  
"I do, actually. And the garden." Pause, sip. "Beautiful."  
  
A little smile played on Matthew's lips as he refilled his cup, emptying the teapot. They sat in quiet until the tea leaves had clumped at the bottom of their cups, unsure where conversation would take them. Neither of them knew it, but Dominic's tea leaves said that he was going to explore, yet never travel. Matthew's said that he was likely to be savaged by stampeding antelope.  
  
Stretching, Matt struggled to his feet and tipped the remains of the leaves into a nearby patch of tall, bright green grass - the kind that causes papercuts if you brush past it too hastily. Dominic followed his lead, stepping carefully to the red, wooden railings, and gazed across the lake. Both leaves and blossom were drifting over ripples. Shifting shapes at his feet drew his attention - dozens of koi carp were sliding silently through the water, throwing orange glimmers across the waves as they swam. Dominic was following the path of the only black one that he could see when he felt a hand on his arm, and Matthew gestured to the edge of the lake.  
  
"Shall we walk?"  
  
Nodding, he followed the smaller man to the edge of the decking, where the wood fell away.  
  
Stepping stones.  
  
"How the hell do you do stepping stones in a kimono?" Dom asked, eyes wide. Matt shrugged, absent-mindedly waving a hand as he stepped clumsily to the first stone.  
  
"You get it wet," he giggled, hopping onward to clear room for Dom's first jump.  
  
_Of course you do._  
  
The jumps were much shorter than they looked, except for the very last one. It was a leap to land - no further than the others, but the slight incline of the bank meant you had to clear its lip. Matthew slipped slightly and his bare foot splashed the water, sending cold water shooting up his leg, but managed to clamber back up with a yelp. He grinned, failing to ignore the peal of laughter that burst out from behind him.  
  
"Go on then, you wanker, _you_ make that jump."  
  
Dominic sized it up, crouching slightly and licking his lips before springing forward. His jump wasn't much better, but Matthew stepped forward and grabbed his hand, pulling hard, shrieking when they almost both toppled backward towards the lake. They half staggered, half pulled each other up the bank. The lower hems of both kimonos hung heavily now; a dark stripe of soaked silk had spread up the fabric.  
  
"Nice catch," Dominic smirked.  
  
"Cheers."  
  
They righted themselves and began walking along the bank of the lake. Once upon a time this had been a path of some kind, but it was now covered in a carpet of scarlet leaves. Matt kicked his bare feet through them as he walked, conjuring up red blizzards and occasionally stubbing his toe on the floor.  
  
"So why're you here, Dom?"  
  
The blonde shrugged. "Why not?"  
  
"Come on, don't play dumb. Help me out here."  
  
Sigh. Dom trod carefully. "Let's call it research."  
  
Matt snorted. "Because _that_ doesn't sound sinister at _all_."  
  
"...Friendly research?"  
  
"Still dodgy."  
  
"Quiz?"  
  
"Oh, fuck." He groaned wistfully and looked at the sky. "I love quizzes. Doesn't everyone love quizzes?"  
  
Dominic nodded. "Pub quizzes."  
  
"Trivial Pursuit." Matt huffed out a laugh, almost tripping over his own feet in the leaves. "Like, I never knew the answers, but when you get one of the little pie wedge things, you feel like Stephen fucking Fry."  
  
"I always thought they were cheese?"  
  
"No, pie. What? _Cheese_?" he snickered, wrinking up his nose. "Who the hell thinks they're _cheese_?"  
  
"I think they're cheese," Dom sniffed defensively. "Like, a wheel of cheese."  
  
"You're weird." Matthew picked at the stitching on the sleeve of his kimono. "Alright, how d'you want to go about this research then?"  
  
Dominic thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully. A gust sent leaves tumbling from the nearest tree, and he flicked out an arm in a half-hearted attempt to catch one. "Can I just ask you questions? It'd be much easier."  
  
Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Matthew lunged across the path to chase a particularly big leaf as it fluttered to the floor. "Alright. On the condition that for every question you ask, I can ask one back. That seem fair?"  
  
"Yeah, alright," Dom nodded, kicking the leaf he'd failed to catch. "Though I reserve the right to not answer something if I think it's a bad idea, okay?"  
  
Matthew looked like he'd been asked if he minded drinking his own piss for breakfast, but he nodded slowly. "Fine. My question first, though."  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
"Am I being held prisoner here?"  
  
"No, nothing like that," Dominic replied, shaking his head. "Don't worry. You are paranoid, aren't you?"  
  
"Ha, is _that_ your question?" Matt laughed. "No no no, you can't go back on that now. Yes, I'm a bit paranoid. You try living here without ending up fucking paranoid."  
  
"So how long _have_ you been here?"  
  
"Nope, nope, you wasted your question, remember. My turn." He ran a hand backward through his hair, replacing messy spikes with slightly messier ones. "Is there a way out?"  
  
Dominic pulled a face. "Depends what you mean by a way out."  
  
"Oh. _Oh_ ," Matt's eyes widened. "What, like suicide? No way, I've tried that."  
  
"Have you?" Dom's face fell, eyes widening sadly. "How? Are you okay? Did y-"  
  
"Woah, calm down, it was an accident," Matthew laughed, "I maybe accidentally crashed a bus. And you just wasted a _ton_ of questions."  
  
"You crashed a _what_?"  
  
"A bus! I was wandering through London and there were buses and cars and everything but they were all still and empty. I dunno, I was bored. Not much to do, you know?"  
  
"So you crashed a bus?"  
  
"I didn't _mean_ to," he pouted, flicking his fringe back. They'd strayed away from the edge of the lake and were now wandering down a corridor of cherry trees. The sunlight filtered through in hues of yellows and pinks. "I just wanted to get around a bit faster - this is before I realised I could just imagine portals - but it was a nightmare to control, I kept getting distracted or overexcited and things I was thinking about kept appearing in the road and I had to swerve around a lot. Ran it right off London Bridge, sank straight to the bottom." He mimed the crash with one hand, creating a splash with his fingers as the bus hit the Thames. "Took me half an hour to get out. Fucking _hurt_ , all that water squashing me down, but I didn't drown. Couldn't." His eyes were a haunted blue. "Am I immortal?"  
  
"No," Dominic replied, forcing a sad smile. "No, definitely not, mate. Go on, have another question."  
  
"Fuck, I'm not immortal?" Matthew whined, kicking up a flurry of leaves in frustration. "That would've been wicked. Okay. Right. But there _is_ a way out of some kind?"  
  
Dom's voice faltered. "Y...yes. Though I can't say I know if you'll ever make it."  
  
"Right." Matt's gaze dropped further. "Your question."  
  
"Hey." Dom's hand moved to Matt's shoulder, squeezing gently. His patient immediately leaned into his touch, just gently enough to be an unconscious reaction. "It's alright, have more questions. I want to understand as much as you do, frankly."  
  
"Aren't you some bloody expert, though?" Matthew asked. The path had let to a bridge which arched over a tiny stream. Willow trees drooped around the stream's banks, their branches trailing in the current. Ahead of them, the water dropped away into a faint roar that surely indicated a massive waterfall. He leant forward against the bridge's railings to stare downstream. "I mean, why _exactly_ are you here? How did you _get_ here? No one _else_ can get here."  
  
"I'm here to research you," Dominic repeated, joining him in leaning on the railings. His fingers were clenched into frustrated fists. He wanted to explain. He really did. He just wasn't allowed.  
  
"And what the fuck does _that_ mean?" Blue eyes shot accusations down at the tumbling water. The one-question rule had most definitely been abandoned at this point. "What do you even want from me? And how _did_ you get here? I mean, I don't think you understand how important this is. _No one gets in._ "  
  
"I can't tell you," Dom answered, staring pointedly, but the smaller man failed to take the hint, still glaring angrily at the water. The blonde laid his hand over Matthew's to get his attention. "You know." He nodded meaningfully, raising his eyebrows a little. "Can't."  
  
Matt's eyes widened and his voice lowered until his question was barely a breath. "Are we being watched?"  
  
It took a long time for Dominic to work out an answer. "I don't know."  
  
Well, technically it wasn't a lie. He really _didn't_ know. Someone might log in later and check the files, but it was hardly like he could tell Matthew that.  
  
"Bloody hell," the brunet burst out in laughter, flicking Dom away so he could rub his face with both hands. "Right, my questions were a total waste of time, then. Go on. Ask away."  
  
"I mean," Dominic thought, "I can tell you about the research bit, no problems. I'm basically here to find out how this existence works. Perception, that kind of thing. I have to find out your history and plans. And then there's a checklist of things, I gotta check they still apply in this universe, as it were."  
  
"Right," Matt nodded, grinning amusedly. "So what're we doing today?"  
  
"What, on the checklist?"  
  
"Yeah, the checklist sounds fun," he agreed. "I'm not in the mood to discuss my history and plans and shit. Both are pretty bloody bleak. Let's have some hot tick-on-tick checklist action."  
  
Dominic smirked and gazed up at the clouds. He shifted to lean on the other foot and felt his kimono glide across his legs, causing a little shudder to run up his back. "Physics. First thing on the list is physics. They seem to be in order, far as I can tell."  
  
"Let's see." Matthew pushed away from the railing and stared around, hands on hips. "How can we test physics."  
  
"What, like we should invent an experiment?"  
  
"Uh huh." Matt skipped off the bridge toward the base of the willow tree. "Like, a basic physics rule. There's one where you can drop a bowling ball and a ball made of plastic and they'll land at the same time, isn't there?"  
  
"If they're the same size? Sure, but where-"  
  
"Oh look," Matt said, voice flat but lips twitching at the corners, "it's that tree that always has a bowling ball and an identical hollow plastic ball behind it."  
  
Dom's face split into a wide grin and he followed, breaking into a jog at the end. "Alright, Dumbledore. You haven't got a beer while you're at it, have you?"  
  
Matthew tilted his chin in the air and huffed. "Now, Dominic, thou shalt not test the Lord."  
  
He was met with a stony grey stare. "You're not _god_ , Matt."  
  
Sighing disappointedly, Matthew leant down behind the tree and picked two beers off the ground from behind a tuft of grass. "That's one theory out, then. Here you go, you stingy bastard. When are you going to pay for the drinks, eh?"  
  
"Fuck off, you get them free," Dominic snorted, picking up the bowling ball and accepting the beer in the other hand. It was already open, and somehow ice cold. His fingertips were cooled by the condensation on the outside of the bottle. "So where are we dropping these from?"  
  
"We need somewhere high up." Matt waved his beer in the direction of the waterfall and began walking, the plastic ball under his left arm. "Gotta reach terminal velocity."  
  
"Terminal velocity." Dom sipped at his beer, licking his lips contentedly. "Good phrase."  
  
"Ter-min-al-vel-oc-it-y." They had cleared the thick patches of willow trees; the ground was harder here, and the roar of the waterfall was growing ever louder. "It's velocity, I think. That's a beautiful word."  
  
"I think one of us needs to be at the top of the waterfall and one at the bottom," Dominic pointed out. "If we're at the top then we won't be able to tell if they land at exactly the same time."  
  
"Alright." Matthew sounded unsure. The waterfall was crashing loudly now. "But we have to make sure that we're always within eyesight."  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
"I don't know," he muttered, shrugging, which is quite a challenge with a large plastic ball balanced under your armpit when you're wearing silk. "I'm half worried that if I let you out of my sight then you'll just piss off and leave."  
  
"Nah," Dom shook his head, needing to speak up over the sound of water exploding far below, "you're being paranoid again, promise. Anyway, we've got important sciencey stuff to do. There's no way I'm leaving now."  
  
Matt threw his free arm in the air. "But that's what I mean. This is just, like, your _job_ , isn't it."  
  
"Matthew," Dominic said, and they came to a halt at the very top of the waterfall. "Seriously, this is _not_ just a job to me."  
  
The waterfall reflected the blues of the sky, and in places, the pinks where the gushing water caught the branches of more trees in blossom. It must have been about thirty metres high, all tumbling in one white, cascading stream to plunge into a lake far below. The lake trailed off into a river which disappeared into thick forest, and that forest continued until it faded into a deep green haze of horizon. They no longer seemed to be in Japan.  
  
"Alright," Matt said grudgingly, but his lips were pursed in a smile as he stared down the cliff. "Right. How're we doing this?"  
  
"I dunno, d'you wanna go on top?"  
  
"The one on top is gonna be the one with the balls, that's gonna be proper hard work."  
  
Dominic frowned, nodding, and took Matthew's plastic ball to test the weight against that of the bowling ball in his other hand. In a world of science, innuendo just doesn't register.  
  
"Yep, you're right, I think it's going to be a right bitch trying to throw them both right out over the lip, see? Or they're just going to get stuck in the water, and that'll mess the whole thing up. _And_ they have to fall in sync."  
  
"Dom, you go down the bottom, I'll stay up here."  
  
"Sure?"  
  
"Yeah. See, if I screw it all up, I can just magic myself a new pair," he snickered, finishing his beer and throwing the bottle over the edge. "Go on, off you go."  
  
The jog down the steep and rocky path to the right of the waterfall was a fast and frightening one, with Dominic resorting to hoisting up his kimono as he jumped from rock to rock, which left no room to steady himself with his hands. It was with a relieved breath out that he landed on the ground, digging his toes happily into bright green, cool grass.  
  
_"Alright,_ " he yelled up, hands cupped around his mouth, _"go ahead, throw them!"_  
  
The first throw was abysmal, both objects falling at completely different times, and the plastic ball instantly being swept into the water. Matt stood at the lip and bowed deeply. Dom raised his arms above his head to clap sarcastically, and the brunet grinned and twisted to pick up a new set from the ground behind him.  
  
The second and third were better, but by no means a success. Dominic was constantly shouting advice up from the base of the waterfall, and Matthew was constantly pretending to follow it before instantly dismissing it and opting to just hurl the two objects over with slightly more accuracy than last time.  
  
The fourth shot was so close that Matt found himself staring expectantly down, but the blonde shook his head, holding up a fist with his thumb down. "Close," he shouted, thumb and forefinger pinching together.  
  
The fifth was perfect.  
  
Matthew knew it was perfect before they'd even crashed into the water, and his half-smile was pulled into an all-out yell of triumph when Dom jumped up, punching the air and holding his arms up. They shared a victory cry, Matt beginning the stumbling, giggling run down the rocks, and Dom jogging to meet him at the bottom. Colliding in a hug and cackling with laughter, they rushed to the bank to watch five plastic balls float away down the river in a rough line.  
  
"Well," Matt grinned, hands over his eyes to look into the distance, "there you go, mate. Physics works, apparently. Did an experiment and everything."  
  
"We did," Dominic agreed, and he took Matthew's arm to draw him into another hug. "And that's all the time I've got, I'm afraid. "  
  
Matt's face fell from delighted to crestfallen in less than a second. "You're going? Already?"  
  
"Yep." The blonde squeezed him tight, resting his chin on the other man's slim shoulder. "S'all the time I've got."  
  
Pouting, Matthew reluctantly let him go. "You've always got to go, haven't you?"  
  
"Uh huh. Wish I didn't. I'll be back though, I'll be back tomorrow," Dom smiled, backing away toward the line of trees. "Thanks for the kimono. And the beer. And the tea."  
  
Matthew gave a little wave and then let his hand fall. He watched Dominic's retreating back all the way until it slid behind a particularly thick clump of birch trees, and then slumped down at the water's edge to watch the cascade until sunset.


	3. Chapter 3

His watch had just beeped for midnight when Dominic finally turned his front door key in the lock, having to jiggle it back and forth in a meticulously practiced manner before it would actually slide home all the way and allow the door to open. He stumbled in, cursing quietly as he tripped over an old pair of shoes that he'd neglected to tidy away from a few days beforehand and dropped the keys into a little bowl on the windowsill. The stairs up to his bedroom were deeply tempting - he blinked up at them regretfully - but instead turned left along a corridor to his kitchen. 

  
It wasn't a big room, but it was certainly the brightest in the small house, and so it served not only as a kitchen but as a dining room, a living room, a study and occasionally a gym, if you counted the frequency of occasions on which he'd caught himself dancing around the central table while washing dishes. The source of this light came from a huge window that hung above the sink and the countertops, which provided a beautiful view of the back end of a Tesco's car park. Or, more accurately, the back of the recycling bank that occupied one corner of said car park, just behind a low and heavily graffitied brick wall. It was the wall that partially obscured this corner of the city from public view. Many a time Dominic had glanced up from chopping vegetables or stacking groceries in the fridge to notice small gangs of local teenagers huddled behind the wall to shoot up, or couples who thought that it was a perfectly legitimate and hygienic spot for a quick shag. Sure, every once in a while it proved entertaining, but let's be honest, Dom lived in the arsehole of London. The window let in plenty of sunlight, though, and that is why the kitchen's island countertop was strewn with endless stacks of paper and folders from work. 

  
Flicking on the lights and rubbing his eyes with exhaustion, he sidled onto one of the two bar stools and dropped his rucksack to the table, unzipping it to take out his laptop. It whirred alarmingly as it booted up from sleep mode. The first pages that popped up were those that Dominic left open at work - he scrolled up through them, cursor flickering here and there across the screen as he flipped through options menus.

  
_SYNAPSE software 2.1 security settings_  


_Username: admin_

_Password: ***********_

_Change password?_

  
_Yes_ , Dominic thought, clicking the button. _Yes, let's do that right now._  


  
_Previous password: ***********_  


_New password: trafalgar_

_Confirm password: trafalgar_

  
Hitting the Enter key, Dominic sat back and stared at the little green tick that had appeared beside the 'saved settings' icon. A hint of satisfaction lingered at the thought that no one could possibly guess Trafalgar, and that satisfaction made him uneasy. He wasn't _supposed_ to be coming up with new passwords, much less implementing them without notifying his superiors. If Evan found out, he was going to shit a brick, and Dom had no wish to dodge shat bricks. 

  
Mind you, he sighed, closing the laptop and sliding out of his seat, Evan was a total wanker. Security systems were designed to keep total wankers out. 

  
Matthew wasn't a total wanker.

  
He'd made it to the door and his fingertips were hovering over the light switch when he paused, glancing over his shoulder to the table again. The red folder that held Matthew's printed files lay just below his bag, one corner poking out, a thick stack of messily stapled, paperclipped and ring bound papers crumpling at the corners. 

  
Dominic looked back towards the stairs. He blinked heavily, clenching his jaw to stifle a yawn before it had even started. His bed was up those stairs.

  
_Maybe just five minutes._  


  
The exhausted parts of his brain collectively facepalmed as he staggered back to the table, climbing into his chair and pulling out the folder. The first page was one that he usually flipped past because it held basic information - age, sex, blood type, etc - but this time he deliberately read through it, eyes lingering on the photo. It was just a passport picture, but it brought a tiny, twitching smile to the corner of his mouth. The face in the photo was far too still and far too serious. Matt probably hated it.

  
Below that he read of hometowns and family members, and occasional hayfever, and a mild cat allergy. He read of jobs behind tills and jobs scrubbing floors. He looked over photocopies of birth certificates and credit cards, and ignored the drooping of his eyelids as he scanned through previous bank statements. Matt was useless at his weekly food shop. After every large purchase from a supermarket, there were then a series of strung out smaller payments at petrol stations. Usually things like toilet paper and teabags. The kinds of things you don't notice you've forgotten until it's nothing short of a total disaster.

  
Further through, he read of a failed university course, followed by a job in a call centre (which lasted less than a week, for reasons so blindingly obvious that he actually snorted with laughter) and then a holiday in Egypt where he'd misplaced his passport. A medical history that spoke of frequent trips to the doctors for something that looked like isolated illnesses but probably pointed to occasional and mild anaemia. A broken arm in a DIY accident. A fairly lucky win on the lottery - not enough to change his bank statements much, but enough that he hadn't had to worry about paying the bills each month for a while.

  
Jerking upright, Dominic snapped his eyes open, suddenly alarmingly aware that he'd very nearly slumped over on the stool and flopped backwards with tiredness. The digital display on the front of the oven said it was almost two in the morning.

  
_Fuck. Not a lot of sleep tonight, then._  


  
The walk back through the hallway passed in a sleepy blur, his hands trailing along the wall to feel his way up the stairs and straight ahead into his bedroom. Kicking his shoes off at the foot of the bed, he unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it to the floor; his work trousers followed, leaving him to fall into bed in his boxers. Dominic immediately burrowed into the duvet and pulled it around himself. At the last minute, a tiny voice in his mind told him to reach over and set the alarm, but before he could even extend his hand then he had fallen into a deep and welcome sleep.

  
*  


  
"You said you'd be here."

  
Matthew picked at his fingernails roughly, hunching over further and staring out at the landscape. The top of the hill was cold. The wind swept his hair in all directions.

  
"You said _tomorrow._ You _promised."_  


  
Dominic climbed the last few metres to the crest of the hill and sat down on the war memorial beside the other man. It was the kind of memorial that stood as a tower on the highest point of a hill, with stone steps that led up to the main pillar so that people could put memorial wreaths of poppies down. They also made excellent benches. Below the hill lay a dead town, all the houses made of identical stone that was mined from a nearby quarry. Clouds were scrolling across the sky anxiously. A few puddles collecting in grassy dips indicated that it had been raining recently. 

  
"I'm so sorry," Dom muttered, genuine guilt washing over him in waves. "Really, I'm so sorry, Matt, I really fucked up. I overslept and couldn't talk to you. Completely fucking kicked myself when I realised, I just was so tired, I forgot to set the alarm. Total idiot." He kicked at a loose stone next to his left shoe. "What did you get up to while I was gone?"

  
Sniffing dismissively, Matthew let his hands fall and stopped tearing at his nails. "Well, I waited all day."

  
"I know, I'm sorry. So sorry. Come on, come here," Dominic sighed, wrapping his arms sideways around Matt and squeezing tight. After a moment of reluctance and tensed shoulders, Matt shuffled around so he could hug properly, immediately pressing himself closely to Dom's chest and digging his fingertips hard into the blonde's sides. 

  
"I missed you," he muttered, sounding small.

  
"I know you did, I know." Dominic stroked his hands over Matthew's back, feeling the dips and bumps of his spine as he went. "I'm here now. It won't happen again."

  
"Better not," came the grumble from somewhere mumbled against his chest.

  
They sat quietly like that, Matt tilting his head so that he was tucked under Dom's chin and staring out sideways at the view. Dominic gazed over his head, following the darker clouds shifting across lighter ones. His hands traced absently up and down Matthew's sides - the other man was only wearing a tshirt, and Dom felt little shivers running through the body in his arms. Looking down, hairs were standing up on his own skin. He winced against a particularly biting breeze. It was _not_ warm.

  
"Right," he said decisively, shifting his hands to cup Matthew's chin and tilt it upwards until they were nose to nose. "It's fucking cold up here, and the weather is _shit_ , and I _know_ it's your fault. So. How the hell do we cheer you up?"

  
Matt's eyes crinkled with a happy smile, and somewhere behind Dom, a sliver of blue sky peeked through. "More hugging."

  
Dominic grinned, pulling him closer and ruffling his hair a little. "I can definitely do hugging."

  
The sky slowly cleared and Matt made happy snuffling noises into Dom's chest until the air held the crisp freshness of sunlight with recent rainfall. Bright flashes of the sun reflected in glassy puddles, and the grass shone with moisture. It was only when Matthew shifted for comfort that Dominic realised he was aching from sitting in the same position for so long, and he sat up to ease the other man off his lap, standing with a yawn and a stretch.

  
"Walk? My arse hurts. And is numb. At the same time."

  
"I feel like I've taken a bumming from a horse," Matt nodded, standing up with a wince and automatically taking his place by Dominic's side as they started down the hill, stumbling a little on the loose pebbles of the path. The hill was like those seen in children's picture books and animated films; it didn't slope down at a logical, gradual gradient, but instead was an irregular hump in the surrounding hillside, like a camel's hump in the middle of its back. While Dom looked around, shielding his eyes with one hand, he realised that there were dozens of other such hills around him, dug from the earth due to the quarry mining nearby. They were mostly grassy, but sandy-coloured pale paths were cut into the sides of each one, presumably where excited children had clambered up the top and screamed _'I'm the king of the world!'_ over the years. 

  
It wasn't at all a surprise that upon reaching the nearest of these other hills, Matt pelted away from Dom toward the nearest slope. Converse-bound feet hit the muddy ground hard as he hammered up the short but steep hill, panting audibly, eventually clambering to the tiny hilltop. Skinny arms were thrown sky-high, Matthew crowing in delight as he stared out at the rolling landscape before him. Dominic grinned up, turning his back and walking onward until the pattering of frantic feet caught up to him from behind and a hand slammed between his shoulder blades. He lurched forward, coughing and then giggling.

  
"Ow."

  
With another burst of choking laughter, he joined a gasping Matt to wander slowly up the next hill, needing to brace his hands on his knees at each step due to its steepness. 

  
"Dom?"

  
"Uh huh?"

  
Matthew reached the top of the hill and sat down with a bump, folding his legs up before him and resting his chin on one of his knees. "You know you said you forgot to set your alarm?"

  
Sitting down next to him and frowning suddenly with apprehension, Dominic nodded. "...Yes?"

  
Matt's face tilted to regard him curiously, a slow smile spreading over his pointy features. "Does that mean you live in a house?"

  
"I - what? Well, it's a flat, actually, but yeah, I live in a-"

  
"Like, you're not an alien in a spaceship? Or some magic fucker with a castle?"

  
Dominic snorted. "No. Definitely not a castle. And definitely not magic. Just a normal person in a shitty flat in London."

  
Matthew uncurled his legs and rolled over to lie down, lolling on the grass and staring intently up at Dom. "D'you have any pets?"

  
"Nah. Too small for pets." Dominic sighed, staring out at the horizon. "The flat, I mean. Not me."

  
There was a pause as they both imagined a tiny person being sat on by an Alsatian. Matt nodded thoughtfully to himself at the mental image.

  
"Tell me about your life, Dom."

  
Dominic rolled over to lie down as well, propping his elbows into the ground and playing with nearby stems of grass. " _My_ life?"

  
"Yeah."

  
"It's really not particularly interesting. Not a lot to tell."

  
"How old are you?"

  
Dom pulled a blade of grass apart, splitting it vertically, all the way down the stem. "Twenty three."

  
Matt shuffled closer, scanning his face. "Did you go to uni?"

  
"More or less," came the reply, and Dominic crumpled up the split grass before throwing it behind him and picking new ones. "I studied graphic design, because I was an idiot and thought it was a good idea when I was seventeen, and kind of scraped passes on all my exams."

  
"You work in graphic design?!" Matthew exclaimed, eyes widening, waving an arm to indicate their surroundings. "What the fuck is a graphic designer doing _here?_ "

  
"Nah, I'm not a graphic designer. The course was useless. Waste of time, except I spent a lot of time around the IT blocks and met plenty of people. I got into lots of computery stuff there. That's how I have the job that I have now."

  
Blue eyes narrowed. "Wherever we are now... has something to do with computers?"

  
Dom rolled onto his back, grinning up at the sky. "Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn't."

  
"Oh, you wanker, I bet it does. Ooh." Matt glared down at the grass below him, leaning in as close as possible in the hope that he'd be able to see the pixels if he squinted hard enough. "Like Tron? Is this like Tron?"

  
"I haven't seen Tron," Dominic smirked, closing his eyes.

  
"No, that doesn't make sense," Matthew shook his head, pawing at the dirt and watching it fall down as dust from his fingers. "If this is Tron, why aren't we wearing glow-in-the-dark latex body suits?"

  
"Because... we'd look ridiculous walking around a hillside in glow-in-the-dark latex body suits?"

  
"No, we could definitely both pull it off." Dusting off his hands, Matthew rolled closer to Dominic and looked down at the blonde. "Seriously, are we in a computer?"

  
Dom shrugged one shoulder against the grass. "If we're in a computer, how come you're the one doing all the programming? That doesn't make sense at all."

  
Matt flung himself back into the grass with a huff, glaring up at the sky. "Maybe I've got amnesia. And I'm in a computer. And you're that  _annoying paperclip_ from Microsoft Word."

  
"Fuck you!"

  
Matthew ignored him. "No, no, I know what you are. You're a pop up. You just slip into the system, when I'm least expecting it, and you get up in my face like this massive distraction. I should just get antivirus or something."

  
Dominic pouted, glancing sideways. "You don't mean that."

  
"No, I don't," Matt grinned, and he wriggled over on his belly until he was half draped over Dom, giggling as his bony limbs drew the blonde into a strange side-hug on the ground. Dom burst into laughter as he was pinned down, and writhed until his arms were free enough to return the hug, patting Matthew's back.

  
"You're weird," he told the smaller man.

  
Matt froze. "Bad weird?"

  
"Nah, you're-"

  
"I can get off, if you want," he said quickly, already shifting as though to roll away, but Dom's arms held him firmly in place, strong hands gripping his sides.

  
"No, _good_ weird, you tit."

  
"Sure?"

  
"Mhmm," Dom murmured. "Yeah, don't worry, I like you."

  
Matthew relaxed and settled into the embrace again, prodding and poking as he shuffled around, constantly trying to rearrange himself into a closer and more comfortable position. It was some time before they both sat up again to continue their conversation while looking over the landscape before them, which now included far more in the way of forests than Dom remembered seeing before. By the time that he was stumbling down the steep bank of the hill to log out for the day, the clouds had all burned off and the sun was sinking below the horizon.  


  
_Therapist: Dominic Howard_  


_Logins: 3_

_Subject: Matthew Bellamy_

_Notes: Relationship with patient building strongly, probably accelerated due to isolation from anyone other than myself - craves physical contact and reassurance. Stunningly powerful imagination. Have successfully found proof that the laws of physics still apply, including a sense of balance. Also, breathlessness indicating exertion and therefore standard biology, though patient did 'survive' drowning. Below is the testing checklist - completed items are checked:_

  
_Laws of physics_ ✓  


  
_Ability to communicate_ ✓  


  
_Evidence of emotion_ ✓  


_Evidence of logic_

  
_Sight_ ✓  


  
_Hearing_ ✓  


  
_Taste_ ✓  


_Smell_

  
_Touch_ ✓  


  
_Balance_ ✓  


_Pain_

_Sexuality_

_Digestion_

_Growth_

_Respiration_

_Sleep_

  



	4. Chapter 4

Dominic's fourth arrival had spat him out back at Trafalgar Square to a sense of slight disappointment. Especially after the intricately imagined beauty of the last couple of worlds, he really hadn't expected Matthew as the type to adopt one home, though he supposed he  _had_ mentioned the Thames bus incident. Perhaps it did make sense for London to stay as a base of sorts. It was certainly familiar. Maybe it was comforting.  
  
He'd barely had time to pull out his sunglasses against another unnaturally heated British summer sky when he was hit from behind, all the air knocked out of his chest, yelling in surprise and lurching forward as Matt slammed into his back with a wild grin, hugging him tightly from behind.  
  
Dominic staggered, gasping but now grinning at the newly familiar pair of thin arms that were wrapped around his chest. "Matt. Get off."

"No," the smaller man shot back happily, but he slid off Dominic's back in favour of snatching the blonde's arm, dragging him instantly across the street and towards the coffee shop they'd visited before. "Sorry, we're not staying or anything, I just wanted to show you how portals work."

"How - wuh - let  _go_ , you tit, I'm  _following_ ," Dom replied, giggling, protesting, pulling at the tiny wrist that dragged him along and trying to pry his hand free. Matthew merely slapped his hand away and hauled Dominic toward the very back of the coffee shop. An unremarkable dark wood door stood in the wall opposite them. It wasn't really dark wood either - it was dark-painted-plastic-fake wood. The kind used to make a place look just a notch more upmarket than it actually was. Dominic stared, pausing for a moment.

"These are the toilets, Matt."

"Yes!" Matt nodded excitedly, swinging the door open and ushering Dominic into a tiny room with two urinals in one corner and a cubicle in the other. He waved instantly toward said cubicle, kicking open the door and gesturing for Dom to lead the way.

"This had better not be some weird-shaped shit you did earlier, or I swear, I may never-"

He stared at the back of the cubicle, sentence instantly cut short and all threats hanging in thin air.

"Er... what happened to the toilet?"

"Got rid of it."

"Is that a  _bead curtain?_ "

"Look," Matt replied, pushing through the back of the empty cubicle. The purple bead curtain made a sweeping, clattering noise behind him. "I don't know, I find it really easy to imagine travelling this way. When I want to be somewhere completely different." He paused, and then poked his head through the curtain. It split at his hair and collected in clumps around his ears before swinging back together below his chin. "You coming?"

Dominic nodded slowly and stepped apprehensively through the space where the toilet should have been - the jagged remains of plumbing still stuck through the tiled floor - and ducked through the curtain. It was mainly dark in the next place, but much warmer, and the faint light was different somehow. Definitely more natural. Reaching a hand out experimentally, Dominic felt himself prod Matthew in the back and apologised quickly before drawing his hand back to try a patch of darkness slightly to his left. His fingers met leaves.

"Leaves?"

"Go on, push through," came Matthew's voice from the space in front of him. Dominic let his fingers explore, stroking through the leaves until in one instant they seemed to give way. A singular shaft of daylight burst through the small gap, illuminating a patch on Matthew's forearm - looking around, they were in a tiny room of leaves, as though hollowed out from some overgrown cave. Water pooled on the floor and occasionally trickled between the branches of the walls, but not heavily enough to drip. Behind them, the bead curtain was still rattling.

"Do I just-" Dominic trailed off, pushing his whole hand through the gap and widening it, then using both hands, prising the opening apart to form a door that he could awkwardly clamber through. Matt held the sides open and then slipped through after him.

"I dunno, if I don't imagine it like two tiny rooms running into each other, I can never get anywhere. Like, have you ever been in a dream where you  _have_ to get somewhere, and you can  _see_ it, but however far you walk, you can never get any closer?" He shielded his eyes with cupped hands, gazing out at the new horizon. "Could've driven me up the wall. So now I use portals."

Dominic tore his eyes from the view to look at Matt, searching the man's face for a moment before looking away again.

"It's beautiful."

The grass and the leaves didn't continue far; they dropped away into pale, reddish stone that slid and sloped in rocky crags toward the coastline. Creeping vines and tiny coloured flowers burst up in places between the cracks in the rock. One long ravine wound its way through the cliff, which seemed to serve as an alarmingly steep pathway downward. The beach ahead was a horseshoe bay of white sand and scattered shelters of trees and rocks, offset by the startling turquoise blue of the sea. The same orangey red cliffs rose around the bay and curled over themselves at impossible angles to create delicate and jagged arcs over the ground, and in places, pillars of the same rock spiked up from the beach and arched over like huge claws buried in the sand. It was that one surreal element which prevented the beach from looking like a photoshopped picture in a holiday brochure.

"We're going down there?" Dominic peered into the narrow crevice. "What if we fall and die?"

"It'll be something interesting to put in your research," Matthew smirked, stepping toward the tiny ravine and beginning the descent.

Dominic followed immediately, both palms out flat on the rock walls either side of his head. One was warm from the sun, the other cool. His shoes slipped and slid slightly in the loose pebbles and dry grasses that lined the floor of the gap, and once or twice he noticed Matthew skid sideways a few inches ahead of him. The path increased in steepness until they had to half crouch and cautiously step downward, arms braced on the walls, occasionally leaping nervously from side to side wherever the ground looked stable enough to land on. Gradually the upper walls of the ravine widened into a shallower V that opened out slowly until they could walk side by side, Matt scuffing his shoes along the floor and kicking rocks along. He kicked one into Dom's path, looking expectantly at the other man's feet and making a disappointed noise when the blonde wandered past it, utterly oblivious and staring at the beach ahead.  
  
"Hm?" Dom asked.

"Nothing," Matt smiled, glancing over quickly.

When the rock walls fell away, they emerged onto the beach and their pace instantly slowed as their footsteps fell on soft, white sand; Matthew bent down to pull his shoes off and Dominic copied him, pulling a face at the sensation of sand scratching between his shoes and his feet. The sun beat down on their shoulders and Dominic pulled his shirt over his head almost immediately, discarding it without a thought. It wasn't like it even existed, technically. Their toes sank into the warm sand as they walked, heading in the direction of the sea until Matthew wandered off on a tangent, kicking up plumes of sand and watching them scatter along the floor. He rounded a sand bank topped by a cluster of ferns and small trees, beyond which lay a blanket. A wicker basket sat beside it.

"You didn't-" Dom started, his face lighting up.

"Who the fuck goes to the beach  _without_ a picnic?" Matt shrugged, flopping down onto the rug and dropping his shoes onto the sand. Opening it, he reached in and pulled out a baguette that was definitely at least twice the length of the basket, followed by a cheese wrapped in cloth and pair of knives. Dominic crawled closer, shuffling on his knees to peer into the basket. A bottle of red wine and two glasses lay in the bottom; he hummed with approval and pulled them out, digging the stems of the wine glasses into the sand to steady them as he poured. Beside him, Matthew had torn the bread in half and tossed Dom's half into his lap. He'd also pulled off his shirt, which had been starting to show up with dark patches under his arms, and was leaning back on his elbows with his neck tilted all the way back to stare at the cliffs rising over their heads.

It was as Dominic was spreading his first slice of baguette with cheese that a thought struck him. A heavy and unpleasant realisation that he'd  _definitely_ just been checking Matt out. Not in a  _creepy_ way as such - 'checking out' certainly sounded creepy - but more an...  _appreciative_ way. More like he'd just let his gaze linger, taking a barely conscious note of Matthew's collarbones and navel and nipples and tufts of underarm hair. Yes. That sounded less creepy. At least, it had done until he'd mentioned nipples.

At any rate, it wasn't the actual gaze-lingering that had suddenly hit him with uneasiness. If he'd been in exactly this situation with Matthew in the real world, at home, on a normal beach with normal cliffs, then he'd have let his eyes trail over that pale torso a dozen times in the last couple of minutes, and he'd have had no regrets. He'd probably be flirting shamelessly and trying to judge how long he should leave it before suggesting they go for a swim. The issue was that this wasn't the real world, and that if Matthew rejected him, it would mean more than an awkward conversation and a night curled up on the sofa and drinking his way through late-night television until he passed out.

A horrible idea crossed his mind that he could technically tell Matthew that anything he did was a part of his job. A mental image blossomed of him holding the smaller man's trembling body down, whispering 'it's only for research'. Even in the heat of the sun, he shuddered.

Something soft brushed his neck, and then he glanced down and smiled as Matthew lay his head against his shoulder and chewed happily on his bread and cheese. Dominic leaned into him, casually looping his left arm around the other man's shoulders and squeezing gently. Matt wriggled contentedly, then leaned away to slurp from his wine glass - Dominic interpreted it as a sign to back off, but when he didn't open his arm to invite Matthew back, the other man whined and headbutted at his arm, spilling a spattering of red wine drops into the blanket as he did so. Dominic opened his arms and Matt immediately snuggled up to his side, hot pale and tanned skin pressing together. Dominic felt a long hand coil around his side.

"I like you, Dom."

"I changed the password on the computer," Dominic said, trying his very best not to sound like he'd just hastily and quite obviously changed the subject. Luckily, Matt chose that moment to get distracted by his last portion of food.

"Oh?" Matthew let go of him and smeared a lump of cheese into the final chunk of bread. He stuffed it into his mouth, mumbling the words around it, spitting crumbs. "Oh yeah, I forgot we were in a computer."

He nodded, speaking slowly. "It means I'm sure they won't be listening."

Matthew's chewing slowed down considerably. He swallowed.

"It means," Dominic continued, "I can tell you things that I couldn't before. You know?"

Matt's head bobbed up and down and he sat up slightly, taking another sip of wine. "Answers, then?"

"Answers," Dom agreed, taking the bottle from the sand and refilling their glasses. "Some of it might be hard to take. I mean, I'm not sure how you're gonna react. Just." He paused, sighing. "Just know that I'm here, and I'm trying to help, and you're safe. Okay?"

Stony blue eyes stared back. "That is the  _least_ encouraging introduction you could  _possibly_ have given me."

"I'm just saying," Dominic said quietly. "There's a reason I'm not supposed to tell you. They don't just make rules like that up for fun. It's really important that you stay calm."

"Why?!"

"Because I don't want to be here if you start freaking out."

"Why  _not?!_ "

"Because we're in your mind."

Matt went still for a moment, thinking it through, and then nodded. "I figured as much. The alternative would be that I was having magic voodoo effects on some external world. Which would make me, like, god." He sipped at his wine, staring at a patch of sand in front of them. "And  _that_ makes no sense, because if I were a god, I'm sure I could pull some miracles, think my way out, create humans, you know?"

"Maybe." Dom brushed a fine coating of sand off his stomach, watching the contrast of paleness tumbling off his golden skin.

"How? Why're we in my mind?"

Sighing, Dominic met Matthew's gaze. "You're in a coma, Matt."

The entire beach was plunged into coldness. Dominic froze up, teeth clenching against the icy air, and he hunched over as a new and alien wind whipped over the sand, throwing it up in gritty clouds. His eyes shut tight against the storm at first, but as he peeked out at Matt, he glimpsed the other man shivering and staring blankly into the air in front of him, arms crossed over his chest and clinging to his sides, like he was trying to hold himself together. Steeling himself, he fought his way across the blanket and pulled Matthew into his arms. The little figure barely responded, buffeted by an onslaught of cutting sand and freezing gusts of wind.

"Come on," Dominic urged him, cupping Matthew's face and stroking desperately, pressing their bodies together for heat and comfort. His hands never stopped moving - running up and down Matthew's bare sides, stroking over the angular, bony planes of his body, all the while whispering soothing words into his ear. Without thinking, Dominic pressed a soft kiss to his cheekbone before resting their heads together. His hands moved back up as though to cup Matthew's cheeks again, but instead placed them on either side of the small gap between their faces to form blinker-like barriers that blocked out the rest of the world.

"Matthew, baby, you  _have_ to calm down. Come on.  _Come on, Matthew._ " The wind began to slowly abate. It was quiet enough now that Dominic could whisper. " _It's okay,_ " he hushed, smiling tentatively, and the sunlight began to flare up again. "I promise, Matt, it's okay. I'm here. Come on."

Matt leant forward into Dom's forehead and shuffled forward to wind his arms around the blonde's back and cling on, nodding. He looked almost apologetic.

"I'm okay," he said softly, tittering with nervous laughter. "Sorry. I don't know what happened there, I just-"

"It's fine, it's fine," Dominic murmured. "It's just a shock. I expected it."

Nodding, Matthew relaxed and slowly detatched himself from the other man and sat back on the sand-strewn blanket. They were both still shivering from cold, but the sunlight already held some warmth and was glowing hotter with each passing moment as Matt recovered.

"Okay." He sighed shakily, running a hand through his hair. "What happened? Why am I in a coma?"

"Car crash," Dominic said gently. "Severe head trauma and there was a lot of blood loss. You've been out for about three and a half months, give or take."

"Am I... am I in hospital?"

Nodding. "Yeah. I see you in here once a day. It's weird, seeing you all asleep and full of tubes, and then coming in here, and seeing you all... alive."

"How the..." he trailed off and stared at Dom, looking almost frightened. "How the  _hell_ are you even talking to me? How did you get in here?"

"When I was in university, I mentioned the guys in the IT rooms who I started to talk to." Matthew nodded, chewing at one of his nails. "It was a friend there, he said he was working on an experimental project with a team of medical students from a college on the other side of London. He said it was investigating the interpretations of brain activity in coma patients."

"Oh."

"It was called Synapse. I didn't have any knowledge, or expertise, or anything, but I'd been playing around with coding and I'd been watching them in the process of writing the software. They needed someone to learn to use the program for its first tests and use on patients. Right now, I'm basically plugged into the software, in the same ward that you're lying in." He gave a half smile. "It's a private ward. I'm on the left hand side of your bed."

Matthew began to relax and sat back on the blanket, leaning on one arm. "Am I one of the first? Do you know others?"

"Yep," Dominic grinned. "Well, no, I don't know any others. I've been into six or seven minds, just once."

"Why didn't you stay?"

"They..." Dom pulled a face, trying to think of a sensitive way to phrase it. "Their minds didnt work in the same way as yours. Either... I don't know, maybe their brains were too damaged, or there wasn't enough activity, or they didn't have the same creativity. I don't know. But they couldn't communicate; Synapse didn't connect properly. They didn't have a fully formed world. Some had imaginations and there were three-dimensional spaces to walk around, but they were like huge blocks, like an 8-bit game.  _Nothing_ ," he breathed, looking out at the cliffs and the now blazing blue sky, " _nothing_ like this. We never expected detail like this. We weren't even sure it was possible." Dominic fell silent and briefly wondered if what he was about to say was a good idea. "You're stunning."

Matthew was quiet, gazing out at the waves crashing to the beach up ahead, his fringe fluttering across his forehead with what was now a gentle, cooling breeze. He was still for a long time until twitching suddenly as Dom laid a hand across his.

"You okay, Matt?"

He turned to look up at Dominic, a strange smile playing over thin, dark lips.

"You kissed my cheek earlier."

Dom frowned down at him, but his mouth crept into a smile as well. "I don't think I did."

"Yes you did," Matt replied. The smile stretched into a grin.

"I don't think so." He resisted the urge to giggle, and took his hand off Matt's. "Maybe you're imagining things."

The grin disappeared. Matt shrank away, his eyes filling with hurt.

"Don't. Don't say that."

"Oh -  _fuck_ ," Dom swore; his eyes widened in horror. "I didn't think, I didn't mean that. Fuck.  _Shit_ . I'm sorry, Matt."

"It's okay," he said quietly. "Maybe you're right, anyway. I won't bring it up again."

"Matt."

Matthew looked up, uneasily meeting his eyes. He barely had time to react before Dominic closed the gap between them, very gently pressing their lips together. The blonde broke the kiss immediately, pulling back just an inch or two to check he hadn't crossed forbidden lines, but long, pale fingers slipped around the back of his head and he felt himself drawn closer again. The second kiss was warmer and longer, Dominic's plump lips covering Matthew's easily. Their mouths moved slowly - tentatively, nervously - and stayed closed, carefully feeling their way around the new shift between them. Aside from the faint rolling of waves down the beach, the only sound was of their lips parting and joining together again in soft, delicate kisses, and the sound of the occasional hitched breath. When they came apart, Dom wrapped his arms properly around the smaller man's narrow shoulders; Matthew giggled breathily, his face flushed and lips swollen.

"That's disgusting, Dom. You just kissed a man in a coma."

"Fuck off," Dominic grinned, hugging him closer and pressing little kisses to the top of his head. "Also, I  _do_ have some good news. We worried that excessive use of Synapse could prove stressful for your brain, but after a few days, we haven't found any negative changes at all. You know, apart from being comatose, you're fine. It means I can extend my shifts."

Matthew's face lit up. "You don't... have to leave me? You can stay?"

"For tonight, yeah," Dom murmured, hugging him, "I can stay."

Grinning ecstatically, Matt squeezed as hard as he could, burying his face in the other man's neck. It was as Dominic was stroking Matt's back that he looked up to the cliff faces behind them. Amongst the reddish rock there now ran veins of greens, silvers, blues and golds - the entire bay was glittering with light.

Maybe he'd just made the greatest mistake of his life, but at least for now, in this moment, it felt purely right.


	5. Chapter 5

"I see one."

  
"Where?"  


  
"Satellite, kinda slow. Not bright. I dunno if you'll be able-"  


  
Dom leaned up on his elbows, feeling them sink slightly into the sand under his weight. "To the left?"  


  
"To the - no. No! Which one are you looking at?" Matt tore his eyes from the sky to frown over at Dom, who was pointing upwards. This was, incidentally, an utterly redundant and useless gesture. Pointing vaguely through darkness to indicate a particularly dark patch of dark that lay billions of light years away is a little bit like trying to direct someone toward a specific drop of water in a non-specific ocean with the clue 'it's one of the wet ones'.  


  
"There, on the left. It's about to pass the dippy bit of the Plough."  


  
"Thought that was a saucepan?"  


  
Dom shook his head and then made a spluttery noise that was probably supposed to be a laugh. "The Saucepan? Yes, Matt. That famous constellation. The Saucepan."  


  
"It _is_ a fucking saucepan," he grumbled, pursing his lips in a smile and staring back at the sky. "No, wait, yeah. I see your satellite."  


  
"And where's yours? To the right?"  


  
"It's..." Matthew paused, putting all his weight on one elbow so he could scratch under his arm, "no, more behind us than that. Toward the cliffs, like, heading toward them."  


  
Dom flopped back onto the beach and tilted his head until he could see behind them. The sky was actually darker by the cliffs, where the Milky Way didn't streak across - the stars showed up with crisper clarity, standing stark against pure black. Satellite-chasing was easier here.  


  
"I see it."  


  
"Really?" Matt squinted. "It was fucking _tiny_ , even _I've_ lost it - no, wait, it's..."  


  
"It's about to go past a star," Dominic said quickly, pointing again. "A big star, the biggest one around it."  


  
"Yes," Matt nodded excitedly, "Yeah, in about three... two... one..."  


  
"Now," Dom grinned, the word spoken in unison as the tiny speck of light sailed past their chosen waypoint star. Instead of propping himself back up, he reached out, trailing fingertips through grains of sand until he met the solid heat of Matt's side. A fine coating of sand still clung to his body, dried on from where they'd collapsed onto the ground after swimming in their underwear earlier. He stroked the bare skin once before moving to take the other man's hand, slipping their fingers together to intertwine. Matthew wriggled sideways, squeezing his hand tight before letting go and rolling over to lie with his chest pressed to Dominic's side in a side-on embrace. It wasn't until a warm arm closed protectively around him that he fully relaxed, resting his head on Dom's collarbone and sighing sleepily. The beach was dark aside from the starlight and the soft glow of the multicoloured veins that ran through the cliff rock behind them.  


  
"Haven't had a shooting star in ages," Dom murmured, and his voice travelled in deep vibrations through his chest.  


  
"D'you want one?" Matt asked.  


  
"Yours don't count."  


  
"Yes they do," came an indignant protest. Soft breaths warmed Dom's chest as they were spoken. "It takes a _ton_ of concentration to magic up something like that."  


  
"Does it?"  


  
"Course it does, it's not just a fucking fairy light, it's like an entire meteorite _burning up_ through the atmosphere."  


  
"You could just imagine it like a fairy light," Dom told him, shifting his weight on the sand. "I wouldn't know the difference."  


  
"You would." There was a pause while he crawled further onto Dom's chest. "Hug me. Really tight; _really_ hug me."  


  
Dominic barely had to think it through before he wound his arms tighter around the body squirming on top of him, squeezing hard, pressing soft skin to soft skin until he felt aches where ribs clashed with ribs. He felt hot breath misting against his neck as Matt buried his face there, hugging back, and as they held each other impossibly close, a streak of light vaguely registered above them. He froze, staring up. An uncontrollable smile spread slowly and he hugged again, experimenting, tracing long, delicate lines up and down Matthew's bare sides and letting his fingertips gently brush and tickle at his hips and waistband, one hand always flat at his back, pressing them together. A tiny, happy sigh sounded near his ear. His eyes were determinedly fixed on the star-strewn sky above when three more meteors showered towards the ground; their tails blazed with unmistakable fire.  


  
"It's working," he breathed, placing a kiss on the top of Matt's head, "you're doing it, it's working!"  


  
"Keep going," Matt panted. His lips suckled briefly at Dom's throat before he felt hips arching up into him and drew away again, breathing heavily. The sky flickered with another stream of falling stars.  


  
"Weird," Dom giggled into soft, black hair. "Squeezing stars out of you."  


  
"I'm a toothpaste," came another gasp from his neck. His stomach muscles clenched with silent laughter and Matthew squirmed at the sensation of Dominic's body writhing against his so closely. Sand slid between their skin. Before long, the streaks of light were coming regularly, in little bursts every few seconds, until they cooled and slowed as their embrace softened. Long, rough, scattered grooves spread out around their bodies from their movements in the sand. Dominic's fingers strayed out to snatch up a handful of the soft grains, slowly letting them trickle between finger and thumb and into a tiny heap on Matthew's back, where they pooled on his spine like the lower half of an hourglass.   


  
"How come you don't know when the other falling stars will happen?" he asked. Matthew shifted to turn his face away from Dom's neck in order to speak properly.  


  
"I don't know. I don't know where the satellite paths are, either. Probably just a memory. Like the fat fucker at Trafalgar."  


  
"George the Fourth?"  


  
"Mmmph," he nodded. "S'what I said."  


  
Dominic glanced down. His hand had emptied; he swept the sand off Matthew's back, ignoring the smaller man's twitch, and scooped up another handful to pour slowly over the soft skin all over again. "Are you tired?"  


  
"Mmmph."  


  
"Is that a 'yeah' mmmph, or a 'no' mmmph?"  


  
"Nmmph." Matt blinked, his eyelashes sweeping over the skin of Dom's neck. "I don't get tired. Just comfy."  


  
"You don't get tired?"  


  
"Yeah, I don't sleep."  


  
A little twinge of sadness flickered in Dom. "Never? I mean, _never? Always_ awake?"  


  
"Uh huh."  


  
"That sounds exhausting."   


  
 There was a long sigh, and Dominic felt his chest tingle from the warmth of it. "Yeah, but I don't get tired."   


  
"I don't mean literal tiredness, you idiot, I mean that your brain needs a break."  


  
"I s'pose my 'real' self is doing the sleeping for both of me." Matt huffed out a half-hearted laugh, his fingers lazily tracing sarcasm marks beside Dom's shoulder.  


  
A small smile crossed Dom's face and he moved his free hand to card his fingers through Matt's hair, gently stroking his scalp. "You could say that, yeah."  


  
Blue eyes slid closed again and Matthew began to fidget before coming to a rest. His movements displaced the little heap of sand on his back; Dominic gave up, letting his hand fall limp against the other man's waist.  


  
"What's the hospital like?"  


  
Dom's eyebrows raised a little. "I dunno. Like a hospital."  


  
"Nah, I want a proper description." Matt frowned, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. "What does our room look like?"  


  
"Boring," he answered, truthfully. "Not much in it apart from you, and my stuff, and all the hospital... things."  


  
"...Hospital things?"  


  
"Oh, you know," Dom said, waving a hand dismissively, "the hospital things. The beepy heart thing, and machines, and-"  


  
" _Oh_ , the _hospital things!"_ Matt exclaimed with realisation. "Are you mental? That stuff's not boring, it's amazing!" He sighed wistfully. "I wish I could have a poke around, see what I'm hooked up to. You're gonna have to describe it."  


  
"I can try, but I haven't a clue what any of it actually _is_ ," Dominic replied, smirking. "There's a couple of computer screens with heart rates and... you know, that kind of thing... er..."  


  
"Is there actually a beepy thing? Like in films?"  


  
"Yep, they have you on a beepy thing. The sheets are white. They get changed pretty often so that your skin doesn't drop off, or something. And there's a plastic bag of... _something..._ which is going into you, in a tube in your arm. There are loads of tubes."  


  
"Up my nose?"  


  
"Up your nose," Dom nodded, grinning. "You have the nose tubes. And a big mouth tube, but I don't think that's to actually _carry_ anything. I think it's just to keep your mouth open so your tongue doesn't flop back and choke you."  


  
"Nice!"  


  
"And I'm pretty sure there must be a tube up your bum, but they keep that out of sight," he replied, and Matt burst out laughing.  


  
"Oh my god, there must be! Oh, Christ, I've got a fucking tube up my bum." He twisted in Dom's arms, propping himself up and pouting at the other man, winking. "Bet you're jealous."  


  
A quick kiss was pressed to his lips, teasing them upward into a smile.  


  
"Jealous? Of your rectal catheter?" Dom snorted, grinning helplessly and kissing him again. "I'm... I'm alright, actually. I'm really fine not being a rectal catheter."  


  
"Suit yourself." Matthew's eyes lingered on Dom's grey ones for a moment, and he felt fingertips ghosting along his sides, barely skimming the sensitive skin. "What happens if you poke me?"  


  
"Poke you?!"  


  
"Yeah, or give me a good shove, or a pinch, or something."  


  
Dominic grinned up at the man on top of him. "I'm pretty sure you can't wake up a coma patient by pinching them. _Someone_ must have tried it before now."  


  
"Well, have you tried it? No. Course you haven't," Matthew scolded him. "Don't actually hit me, though. Kiss my cheek on the way out or something; I'll let you know if I feel anything."  


  
"I... don't think I can," Dom said, playful smile sliding from his face. "Someone might see."  


  
"Oh."  


  
"Yeah."  


  
"And then you become the pervert who sneaks into hospitals under the pretext of 'research' and kisses the coma patients."  


  
"Yeah." A burst of laughter escaped him despite the situation. "Yeah, that guy. Don't be that guy."  


  
"Don't be that guy," Matthew repeated, but quieter. "Alright, don't kiss me. I don't know, let's experiment. Just hold my hand or something and call it research. Let's try that."  


  
Dom's brow furrowed thoughtfully. "I could do that," he murmured.  


  
"And music?" Matt asked. He looked hopeful. "I don't know, play some music. See if it gets through."  


  
"Shit, that's a good idea, I'll set that up," Dom agreed. "Er... what do you like?"  


  
"Anything."  


  
"That's not helpful."  


  
Shrug. "Classical, anything classical. Piano type stuff. I play piano. I dunno. It'd be nice to learn something fresh. If it gets through, that is," Matt mumbled quickly, shrugging again.  


  
Dominic's hands had stilled and his eyes were fixed on him, curiously scanning a suddenly reluctant Matt. "Cool. I'll get that, then, not that I know any classical, so it'll be a random pick, I'm afraid. D'you... y'know, you play piano often?"  


  
There were a couple of brief nods, and then a nervous, rushed laugh. "I'm not playing for you, though. I get way too shy. I played for, you know, one of the people I tried to imagine, once. She wasn't even real but I got all anxious and the keys switched places and they didn't do the right notes, like I was forcing myself to ignore her and play, but it all came out wrong. Can't do it," he shrugged. "So forget it."  


  
"I'll get the music," Dominic said instead, resuming the gentle stroking of Matthew's back and leaning forward to peck his lips. "Tomorrow, as early as I can be here."  


  
"Thankyou." The kiss was returned, and a tiny shooting star fell unseen behind Matt's head.  


  
"I have to go now. Really, really need some sleep."  


  
"Ah, yes, I forgot that you mortals need your sleep," Matt teased, clinging on tightly. "Go on, get some rest. I don't even want to know what happens if you fall asleep in my brain."  


  
"A wormhole opens and then the universe collapses," Dom mumbled. He hugged back, dropping kisses over sharp cheeks and pale shoulders. "And everyone dies."  


  
"Piss off, then."  


  
They shared a last, slow kiss before Matt rolled sideways to let the other man clamber to his feet. He levered himself into a sitting position, cross legged, and then wordlessly smiled up at Dominic and lifted his hands to cover his eyes. The last image he noticed was his smile being returned before he counted to five, lowered his palms slowly, and found himself staring out at a dark and empty beach.  


  
*  


  
Dominic tugged at the broken zip on his rucksack. It had split long ago from the number of times he'd crammed his laptop into the bag, and it was just as he'd managed to close it that he realised he'd left the charger on the side. He let out an almost inaudible groan of exhaustion and started again, the heel of one hand repeatedly palming his right eye in an attempt to stop it from aching. The clock on the wall showed that it was three in the morning, and that was without counting the drive home. It was both a blessing and a curse that time ran at different speeds in and out of the software; he was always losing track of time spent in Matt's head.  


  
Swinging his bag onto his back, he glanced at the doorway to check it was empty before he paused to look down at the tiny, frail figure lying motionless in the bed. Ghostly white skin barely differed from the bedsheets, but eyelashes and lips and hair stood at stark contrast. Dominic felt his jaw clench as he unconsciously stepped a few inches closer and swallowed hard at the sight of tubes piercing skin. It was almost a full minute of staring in stillness before he detected the slightest, faintest rising and falling of Matthew's thin chest as he sucked in a weak breath. He extended a hand slowly, just brushing his lover's lifeless fingers. Amidst the humming and the hissing of the machines around him, he didn't hear his boss entering the room behind him.  


  
"Dominic?"  


  
Flinching violently, he snatched his hand away and spun around, heart hammering. "Y-yeah! Hi, Evan. Just on my way back home."  


  
Evan sipped from his mug of coffee and nodded slowly, his head on one side, giving Dominic a very definite Look. The kind of Look that demands an explanation. Unfortunately, it's hard to tell exactly which explanation they want; reading too far into such a Look can end up making you look more guilty than you actually are. Dominic shrugged it off.  


  
"Thought I saw him twitch," he muttered, half-smiling and resisting the urge to look back at Matt before heading for the exit. At least he was an excellent liar. Evan stifled a yawn and snorted with laughter. The sound was muffled and echoed as he raised his mug to his lips again.  


  
"I'm afraid his twitching days are pretty much over," he chuckled. It didn't carry much humour. "You'll be seeing things; you must be bloody knackered. How's your research going, anyway?"  


  
"Good," Dominic said quietly. "Really good."  


  
"How much of the checklist?"  


  
"Lots, it's coming along quickly."  


  
"Well, that's good, then," Evan sighed, following Dominic out of the room. "Keep up the pace; he can't have long left. Family will probably be considering termination as it is."  


  
Dom swallowed again, suddenly feeling sick, but kept a cool, flawless mask. "How long's he been under?"  


  
"Almost four months. They're all pretty much past waking by then." He clapped a hand to Dom's shoulder and then turned left down the next corridor, heading for his office and calling behind him as he walked. "You've got about a week, I reckon. Finish up that list and we'll get you transferred to the next one. Reliable results and that."  


  
"Will do," Dominic called after him. His throat seized up and he continued through the hospital maze, following the signs for the exit as best as he could make them out through the thickening film of tears over his eyes. He made it to his car before he buried his face in his hands and began to tremor with silent sobs.  


  



	6. Chapter 6

Dominic gazed at the stapler in the fridge. Blinked slowly. Let the cool air seep out and into the kitchen. Took it out, placed it on the table with his work papers, and exchanged it for the full milk carton that he'd almost dropped in the bin.

  
It was safe to say that he was desperately in need of a decent night's sleep.  


  
The fatigue tended to fade out once he had logged in and adrenaline would take over as he explored Matthew's mind. The next visit back, he brought an old CD player along and set it up amongst the banks of machines around the bed. All of the plug sockets had been taken; he'd had to go on an awkward quest around the hospital, walking from room to room and asking if anyone had a four-way extension socket he could use. Yes, he did work here. No, he didn't have proper ID. Yes, he had clearance, and yes, they could check his name with reception.  


  
Logging in, he found Matthew in the middle of a bouncy castle in a deserted barley field. Dominic walked out of the trees that lined the field to see the bright red and yellow structure standing motionless amongst a sea of shifting gold; the wind stroked the field into soft waves, bending each long, curved stem into a rustling mass that swept to his knees as he walked past. It took some time to actually cross the field, navigating clumps of wildflowers and tangles of thick grasses that caught his ankles.   


  
The very definite sound of violins drifted through the air as he rounded the side of the bouncy castle, searching for the front entrance. He turned the corner to see Matthew lying in the centre of the castle, on one of the inflatable mounds between grooves.   


  
"Hey," he called over, and all the exhastion and worry of the night before fell away at the sight of Matt jerking upright, eyes wide and hopeful, his hair flopping over his eyes before he ran his fingers through to push it back. Grinning clumsily, he threw his arms out wide as an invitation for Dom to join him. The bouncy castle wobbled slightly as they collapsed back together onto its floor, limbs tangling, instantly fusing together in a warm, happy heap of slow kisses and rough cuddles. Matthew constantly fidgeted, trying to burrow his way into Dom's chest like a tiny animal trying to dig deeper into its nest.  


  
"The music works, then," Dominic smiled, nibbling at the shell of Matt's ear. His voice was deep and husky, whispered so closely that Matthew could hear every little noise of his mouth moving. It quickened the smaller man's heartbeat. A nervous flutter of laughter escaped Matt and he nodded, excitement coiling dangerously tight inside him as he felt his chin tilted up and Dom pulled him into a deep kiss. The slow, wet sensation of the other man's tongue dragging against his ignited a searing need in his abdomen and he faltered, frightened, pulling away and reverting to cuddling. Familiar territory. He hid in Dominic's neck to hide his flushed cheeks and concentrated on steadying his breathing. It didn't help that he could feel warm, solid hands moving on him, or that he could hear the thick noise of swallowing and feel the shift of the hard throat muscles beside his cheek. Matthew shut his eyes tightly. He listened to the orchestra.   


  
Through Dominic's entire stay that day, Matthew fought to cool the desperate desire in him. It flared every time he was kissed, or held, or even as his hand was taken in the walk through the fields - he barely trusted himself to speak - which was difficult, seeing as whenever he fell quiet then Dom would pull him close and cuddle him gently to check he was okay. He never let his arousal show, but inside, his body was quaking with excitement.  


  
He was being hugged tightly at the end of their day together, his breathing speeding up and insides trembling with frustration and need. As far as he'd ever known, Matthew had been straight, but this was different. Dominic was a man. His figure was hard and angular and _masculine_ , and yet Matt ached to belong to that body. It didn't even feel like it did when he wanted a woman; it wasn't a craving to take, but to be taken - to open himself up and submit. He wanted to be thrown onto his back and brutally owned.   


  
The moment Dominic had vanished from sight, Matt fell to his knees in the field, snaked his hand into the waistband of his trousers and began touching himself, shamelessly and desperately, collapsing sideways to lie down. He let out the quietest of high pitched moans as he hit the floor and curled up on his side, one hand fumbling to unzip his fly and the other hand palming rapidly hardening flesh. Tugging his cock free, Matt began pumping it with his fist. His free hand clutched at blades of tall, sandy grass.  


  
It wasn't a pretty wank. It was a small, writhing figure fucking himself into a shaking heap on the ground. It was a series of animalistic grunts and gasps that echoed out across the barley field; simply a release of filthy, tortuously denied arousal.   


  
A strained, quick whine cut through the air and he shuddered violently, hips jerking and then stilling as come spilled in milky streams over his fingers. He wiped his dripping hand on the grass before rolling away from the thick puddle with a low, drawn out groan, eyes half closed and lips quirking into a lazy, satisfied smile. He pressed himself to the earth and breathed hard. It smelled warm and solid.  


  
*  


  
There was no way to actually measure time in Matt's world relative to time in Dom's world, but if anyone had been watching both at once, they'd have observed that both men reached orgasm at roughly the same time.  


  
_Roughly_. It really was impossible to tell.  


  
Dominic's clean palm was pressed to the tiled wall of the hospital toilet that served as an ensuite to Matthew's ward. A sweaty handprint misted around it; it held most of his weight, body quivering and legs too weak to confidently support himself. His other hand was clutching a crumpled mess of thoroughly soiled tissue.   


  
Tossing off in a coma patient's bathroom. Classy.  


  
Wrinkling his nose, he dropped the tissue into the toilet and flushed, humming under his breath at the softness of his boxers sliding against hypersensitive skin as he tucked himself back in.   


  
It hadn't exactly been a stretch of his powers of deduction to notice Matthew's behaviour. If the sweating, quivering and little whimpers hadn't been enough of a clue, the way he'd felt Matthew less-than-subtley press his hips into their goodbye embrace would certainly have tipped him off. Technically, the action had been firm enough to define as grinding. He'd been losing control by that point. It had set Dominic off, awkwardly logging out and switching off the machine to stumble to the bathroom as fast as possible. A task that would have been infinitely easier if he hadn't also had to avoid revealing the tent in his trousers to the nurse currently visiting the ward.  


  
With a sigh and a slow, sleepy blink, Dom crashed back to the real world and pushed the bathroom door open. The nurse had left, taking a basket of dirty sheets with her. Classical music floated around the room. He threw Matthew a quick look before heading for the exit, exhausted and in need of sleep.  


  
As it turned out, it took more than an hour to drift off. He'd been thrown by Matt's state during the visit; his thoughts were split into a series of difficult threads.   


  
On one hand, he was both delighted and apprehensive that they were moving forward so fast - a part of him felt nervous that he was simply the first available human in a long time, and that Matt interest was in him as a warm thing to cuddle and kiss and fuck rather than as an individual. A scene flashed through his mind of Matt waking from his coma and brushing him aside in favour of ninety percent of the rest of the population. He curled up tighter in bed, feeling small, and buried his face sadly in a pillow.  


  
Though if that were the case, why had Matt strained so hard all day to hide himself? He was probably out of his mind with frustration. Didn't he trust Dom? Was he scared they were moving too fast? Was he just shy?  


  
_Bugger this_ , Dom thought, rolling over and closing his eyes, _I've just got to ask him._  


  
  
*   


  
"Ask me what?" Matt replied, dragging his fingers through a puddle of grime on the tabletop. He flicked the blackish flecks against the wall, watching them dribble down the cracking plaster before hitting a dead branch of ivy - the room was thick with decay. The rain hammered at a shattered window pane.   


  
"You _know_ what, you little tease."  


  
"Nah I don't." Matthew giggled, swiping up another handful of slime and dust and wiggling his fingers closer to Dom's face, threatening to smear it over the other man's cheeks. Dom ducked away, snorting with laughter. He felt something cold and wet touch his hand and lurched away, shrieking.  


  
" _Urgh,_ Matt, that's _disgusting_ ," he whined, lunging forward to wipe his filthy hand on the other man's heavy black coat. Matt dodged, squealing, and successfully shot a hand out. A blackish-green splatter appeared on Dom's face, some streaking over his leather jacket.  


  
"Oh, shit," he laughed, covering his mouth with his hands and smearing his own face in the process. "Shit, Dom, don't kill me, I didn't mean to-"  


  
Dominic grinned, stalking closer, bending to scoop up a double-handful of slime from the slight dip where rotting floorboards met the skirting board. It dripped and slid between his fingers. Matthew's eyes were wide, his expression caught in a scared half-grin, backing off quickly. The backs of his knees hit the bed behind him and he scrambled onto the sagging mattress, ducking cobwebs and swinging chains from the ceiling.  


  
There was one moment where they froze, poised and staring, and the abandoned building lay in utter silence save for the drumming of raindrops. Then Dom charged.  


  
A piercing shriek rang through the halls of the asylum as Matt leapt from the bed, ducking as a splash of slime exploded on his shoulder, splattering over his neck and the right hand side of his face upon impact. He turned and sprinted into the corridor, glancing with a terrified giggle behind him to see Dom much closer than he'd thought. The thudding of feet slamming into floorboards and the echoes of hysterical laughter ran through the asylum halls with them, their sprinting figures flashing past open doors to bedrooms that once held restrained residents. The corridor ended too soon, Matthew hammering on the door at the end only to find it locked. He spun around and held his hands up in defence, doubled over from breathless giggling. Dominic collided with him, wrapping his arms around the smaller man and seizing him, lifting his feet from the floor and cackling at Matt's attempts to bite and claw his way to freedom. One of Matt's swift, frantic kicks met the door with force, finding a weak point, and a long-rusted and rotten lock fell apart. Swinging open, it opened onto a larger room. Dominic paused and stared through the gap, lowering Matthew to the floor.  


  
"Jesus, this place is _creepy,_ " he gasped, still panting from the chase. Leading the way, he stepped into the room, swinging his hips to avoid an overturned bed obstructing his path. "What the hell are you doing imagining this?"  


  
"Not imagination," he shot back in defence, folding his arms and skipping over the bed to wander into the mental hospital's emergency medical ward. The same restraints and chains hung above each of the rotting beds, and the dead strings of ivy that had crept over the hospital equipment over the years threaded like veins through a corpse. "Been here. When I was much younger. About twelve years old, I reckon."  


  
Dom tore his eyes from a table covered in a set of ancient-looking surgical tools to stare at the other man. _"Been_ here?"  


  
"Not as a patient, you tit," he snorted, poking a moth-eaten pillow to test if it were as lumpy as it looked, "it was near where I lived and I always saw it on the way to school, and we always called it Ghost House. Like, 'steal my seat and I'll lock you in Ghost House', or 'you're weird, bet you grew up in Ghost House,' or 'dare you to spend a night in Ghost House'." His eyes flicked up to Dominic, smirking a little. "That last one came up a lot. It was like, the ultimate challenge. Tell your parents you were staying at a mate's and go up Ghost House with a sleeping bag."  


  
"You didn't," Dominic grinned, peering out the window, far below. One of those streets must have been one that a very young, very small Matthew Bellamy had walked countless times to and from school. Maybe he'd looked up at this window long ago. "Tell me you didn't."  


  
"Of course I did!" he replied, as though it were obvious. "Anything to make me look like _less_ of a pussy. And I was dared. _And_ I wanted to take photos of the inside for an art project," he sniffed, like that settled the matter. "Anyway, I'm not scared of ghosts."  


  
If Dom's grin had been any wider, it'd have stretched off his face. "Bet you were."  


  
"Yeah, I was." Matt huffed with laughter, running a hand over his face and then through his hair. "Didn't even sleep. A few mates walked me to the gates. If I didn't make it through the night, this guy from school was gonna tell the teacher about the time he saw us all smoking down the alleyway, so they were proper egging me on, and I was acting all cool, like I was the only one tough enough to take on Ghost House for them." He joined Dominic to stare down out of the window to the gates. "It was kind of a game at that point. My mate Tom was a right wanker, telling me to look out for things like rotten floorboards in case I fell to my death, and he gave me a salt shaker to draw out barriers to block evil spirits, stuff like that. Such bullshit. He was only doing it to freak me out." He grinned. "He gave me the leg-up over the gate and threw my bag over. Everyone was shouting stuff at me when I was walking up the path to the front door. Last person I heard was Tom yelling 'don't shit yourself, Bellamy', and then I suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to shit myself."  


  
Throwing his head back in a now familiar laugh, Dominic wrapped his arms around Matthew's grime-scummed shoulders from behind and pressed a quick kiss into soft, dark hair. _"Did_ you shit yourself?"  


  
"Well, no toilets, so y'know, eventually..."  


  
Dom's lips froze in Matt's hair. "... _Eventually?"_  


  
"I dunno, I shat in a hedge. It's not _that_ bad. Foxes do it all the time."  


  
The lips stayed still for a moment before Dom shrugged with one shoulder and resumed kissing in a vague path to the very top of Matt's head. "Fair enough."  


  
They stayed there a while, gazing down through the gaping holes in shattered glass to an overgrown, wild garden and the grey, empty street that marked Matthew's path to school. Dominic's hands slid to hold Matt's waist, slim and hard even through the thick coat, which clung to each shallow curve and sharp angle of his frame. It was buttoned right to his throat.   


  
Dom's fingers began to skate gentle patterns across the flatness of his stomach. His mind was trailing back to how the place would have looked to a child; he imagined a tiny Matthew huddling with his arms wrapped around his knees in a dark corner, listening to the wind howling through broken glass and rattling rusty, creaking chains that hung from the ceiling. Eating a packed dinner from whatever he could sneak out of the house without his parents asking questions. Maybe exploring with a lighter. Maybe it would have taken him a couple of hours to realise the purpose of the building; maybe he'd have worked it out instantly. It was hard to tell if it would have scared him or if he'd grown up seeing too much too young to be upset.  


  
"What did you have to ask me?"  


  
Dom's hand stilled and he blinked, thinking back. "Oh."  


  
"We got distracted," Matthew said softly, a little giggle creeping into the words. He held up his hands, wriggling the still-blackened fingers from the slime.  


  
"Hmmm." It seemed strange to bring up now - immediately after discussing a twelve-year-old Matthew taking a shit in the garden of an abandoned mental asylum - but he _needed_ to ask. He'd needed to ask all day. "I wanted to ask about that day in the field with the bouncy castle."  


  
A flash of nervous alarm passed almost imperceptibly over Matt's sharp features. The shadow beneath his cheekbones darkened even further as his jaw clenched. "Go on?"  


  
"Come on," Dominic purred, wrapping himself further around the slim figure in his arms in a slow hug, "you weren't _that_ subtle."  


  
"But I tried really, _really_ hard!" Matthew whined, actually pouting.  


  
"Not hard enough," came a little giggle in his ear. "No, I just wondered how you felt about the whole situation."  


  
Leaving the topic wide open, he fell silent and let Matthew consider his answer. A cruel move, perhaps, but now at least the ball was in someone else's court.  


  
"Dom," Matthew began gently, "I'm not gay."  


  
Everything seemed to go silent. The wind whistling in the windows, the rain on the glass, and the creaking chains all fell dead at that sentence. For a moment, Dominic wondered if it had been a disturbance in Matt's mind and everything literally _had_ fallen silent, but nothing had changed. Just shock blotting out his senses.  


  
"Not... gay?"  


  
"No. Never have been."  


  
Quickly sliding his hands from Matt's body, he stepped back, blinking hard, almost shaking his head like it would clear out the confusion inside. "But... you - you _kissed_ me-"  


  
"I know, I know," Matthew said, spinning around quickly and grabbing Dominic's hands. He held them close, two grime-blackened pairs of hands, squeezing them tight and pulling the blonde closer. "And I would again, and so much more," he whispered. "I just mean that this is new to me. Really new."  


  
"For fuck's sake, Matt," Dom breathed. He tried to laugh softly, but the sound was too shaky to resemble laughter. "I thought that was it, I thought you'd just been pretending this whole time, or you-"  


  
"No! No no no!" Pulling him closer, Matt wrapped his arms around the other man's waist and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. _"No._ Definitely, _definitely_ not. You're already my favourite person I've ever dated."  


  
"Dated?" Dom felt his stomach - which had only just recovered from sinking - flip excitedly at the word. "Officially? We're dating?"  


  
"I think so," Matthew giggled between little kisses, smiling too much for any of them to land properly. "You can go back out to the real world and tell everyone you're dating a guy in a coma, if you like."  


  
"Which either makes me sound like an angel or a pervert."  


  
"Maybe you're a bit of both."  


  
"But... you're not gay?"  


  
"Never _been_ gay," Matthew spoke quickly, mumbling a rushed tumble of words as he tried to figure it out in his own head, "at least, never before, and I don't think I'd count myself as bisexual now. Only with you. I don't know. My point is just that I'm nervous, okay. Believe me, I want you, I really, _really_ do want you, but I got scared of what you'd do if I just got hard in front of you. I don't know. A boner isn't always an invitation, you know?"  


  
"I'd never do anything you didn't want me to," Dom murmured, his eyes grey and soft and serious.  


  
"I know!" Matt exclaimed, his hands constantly moving and gesturing and explaining even from their position behind Dom's back. "I know, and I know all I'd have to do is tell you to stop and you would, but that's it. That's just it, I wouldn't tell you to. I'd never refuse you, Dom, even if it hurt and I was scared, I'd still want you."  


  
"That's stupid." Dom's voice had lowered to a whisper now. His head was almost on Matt's shoulder, lips speaking softly into his ear. "I wouldn't want that. Ever." He paused. "And if you realise you... you know, you're straight... I'd want you to tell me that, too. If you don't want me anymore. For whatever reason, if you don't want me, you need to tell me."  


  
The hands tightened around his back, tighter and tighter, until he found himself completely in Matthew's arms, stroked and held close. Dominic found himself clinging back. There was the faintest warmth of slim lips dragging and wetting the skin of his neck, a little trail of kisses moving down until they met the neck of his jacket.  


  
"No," Matt said quietly, "I'll always want you. But I'll let you know if I don't."  


  
One nod. "Okay."  


  
Blue eyes peered mischievously up into his. They flicked back and forth, a smile quirking beneath them. "You don't sound convinced."  


  
"I'm just a bit thrown. I get..." Dom said slowly. He felt Matt hold on a little bit tighter and wanted to use the word 'insecure', but couldn't bring himself to. "I get nervous, you know?"  


  
There was a slight pause and then Matthew pulled away, sharply, grabbing Dominic's hand and moving to drag him back towards the corridor they'd run down. "I have something that will convince you."  


  
"Wh- Matt, let go, it's okay, I-"  


  
"No. Shh." Matt stepped over the upturned bed and let go of the other man's hand to wrestle with the handle of the first door on the left. "It's annoying, it's not quite finished, I was _almost_ done, but you need to see it now." He pushed the door open and stepped inside, lacing his fingers together with Dominic's to guide him into the room. A bead curtain hung at the opposite exit of the tiny space. "I definitely want to show you now."  



	7. Chapter 7

Matthew guided Dominic through the curtain and into the tiny room beyond, instantly placing his hands over the other man's eyes. The cool press of fingertips on his face made Dom twitch, but he steadied himself, feeling his way forward with tentative steps that dragged along the uneven stone floor. A reddish glow around his eyelids told him that sunlight had flooded into the portal.

  
"Gonna take my hands away," he heard Matt say quietly into his ear. "Promise not to look until I say?"  


  
"Promise."  


  
The fingers slid from his cheeks and down his body to find his waist, where they eased him forward, gently encouraging steps towards the faint light. Warmth flooded over his skin and Dom sensed sunlight bathing his face - a relief after the cool, damp air of the abandoned asylum. Long hands still gripped his sides, but the ground seemed smoother and he stepped forward more confidently. His shoes seemed to be brushing through shortish grass, and he could hear birdsong and running water.  


  
"You can look," Matthew murmured, and Dom felt the gentle weight of his chin resting against his shoulder. He opened his eyes.  


  
And blinked. His breath caught in his throat and he swallowed, staring with his lips slightly parted in wonder.  


  
He stood at the very lip of a cliff that fell into an endless drop, tumbling downward into a second sky. Before him stretched an endless expanse of linked islands that towered and balanced impossibly in the air, joined together by tiny, rocky bridges or vines that wound into delicate ladders. Their surfaces were thick with grass that grew in all colours between bright green and a deep midnight blue. Streams ran in an endless network between the sky islands like veins through a leaf, clouds of steam rising constantly from the rolling water as it rushed in waterfalls between islands. These cascades glittered with sunlight and occasionally pooled into tiny ponds and lakes. Around each small body of water, Dominic could glimpse stone ridges that formed steps, and huge tropical plants hung heavily over the surface, their branches drifting in the current. Three moons graced the sky - or possibly planets, it was hard to tell in the light - some appearing larger than the islands, curving in huge, pale arcs. There didn't seem to actually be a sun, but the sky glowed with the pink and orange hues of an endless sunset.   


  
"It's yours," Matt whispered. He tightened his arms around Dom's waist and pressed closer into his back, placing a gentle, suckling kiss at the soft skin just behind his ear.   


  
Dominic swallowed and found his heart bursting with emotion in his throat, unable to stop staring. He thought back to the effort it had taken to imagine a single shooting star, and realised that almost everywhere he'd been taken before had been a memory - familiar; far less challenging to bring to mind. None of this could possibly have been drawn from memory. It must have taken a colossal amount of time and energy. Countless cliffs and plateaus. Tiny, semi-feathered reptiles playing amongst vines. Alien flowers echoing the orange of the sky. The lack of a ground gave the impression of being caught in a fiery globe.  


  
"I started making it for you after the second time we met." Matthew's nose nuzzled against his neck. "Sorry it's not done."  


  
"Not _done?"_ Dom replied, his voice barely a breath.  


  
"I wanted it to be bigger. Could have been much bigger. I mean, look at it, you can see the bloody horizon," he huffed, waving a hand at the furthest islands, each one shrouded in mist and steam. He buried his face into Dominic's neck shyly, suddenly self-conscious of his creation. "D'you like it?"  


  
Speechless and deeply moved, Dominic twisted until his chest was pressed against Matthew's, lifting his hands to cup the other man's face and hold him there. His fingers were gentle but firm, ignoring the faint scratch of stubble, one thumb stroking over a patch of rough, pockmarked skin just above his jaw where spots had once left marks. Darting blue eyes apprehensively sought stormy ones, wide and seeking approval. He gazed down into them deeply, waves of affection rising up as he took in each delicate imperfection. A slightly crooked and bulbous nose. Dark lips so slim that each of his kisses could capture the other man's mouth completely if he wanted them to. Tiny, faded scars. Pores. A mole.   


  
Reverently, and with utter sincerity, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Matthew's forehead. It was silent and tender. Several moments stretched out before he moved his mouth away, looking back down to continue the searing eye contact before shying away and looking at the ground.  


  
"I love you," he said quietly to the grass.  


  
Matt's heart sped in his chest, bursting with joy and yet also fluttering with nervousness. "W... what did you say?"  


  
"I... yeah." Dominic lifted his head to meet Matthew's gaze almost apologetically and nodded. "It's too fast, I know."  


  
"No it's not!" Matthew shook his head quickly, eyes wide, sliding his arms further around Dom's waist. "Don't say that, it's not too fast, not really!"  


  
"It's barely a week," Dominic whispered with a hushed laugh, "and I already adore you. It is too fast, and, to be completely honest, it's terrifying."  


  
"A week isn't too short," the smaller man persuaded, stroking his back in encouragement. "People are always falling for each other. Sometimes it only takes a day, even."  


  
"No, you don't understand," Dom sighed, thumbing just below the other man's cheekbones, "it's not love like a crush. That's like a crush, where you fall for someone, and you don't care that they have flaws because you're busy wanting them. I'm past that, Matt, _way_ past that."  


  
"What comes past that?"  


  
Dominic thought for a moment, closing his arms around Matthew and looking over his shoulder to avoid eye contact.  


  
"After that, you love them _for_ their flaws. Like, they can be the worst of their worst, and that crap is part of the person you love. You want them even for the arguments and the imperfections. It's not like I want us to fight." It was so difficult to describe; Dominic buried his nose in Matthew's neck and chose his words carefully. "It's just that I know we're going to last long enough to fight, and that's what I want."  


  
"Is it hard?" Matthew said, after a long silence. "Waiting out there, when I'm asleep?"  


  
"Really hard," Dom nodded into his shoulder. "Even boring things. I wish I could share the boring things with you."  


  
"Boring things...?"  


  
"I want to go food shopping with you," he mumbled. "Boring, shitty food shopping. Like, drive to Sainsbury's with you and listen to the radio in the car, and then pick out whatever food we want and argue about what kind of milk we like and what to eat tonight. At some point we'd forget something and you'd have to go back a few aisles for it, and I'd lose you, and we'd have to do that walk up and down the rows, looking left and right until we saw each other, you know? And we'd take turns pushing the trolley, and then go home and unpack the whole lot in our fridge, and grab whatever looked best from what we'd bought, and flop over on the sofa together and eat it all."  


  
Matthew kissed his hair, hugging tightly, trying to communicate as much love and consolation as he possibly could through the closeness of his limbs. "Soon. When I wake up, I promise."  


  
Dominic's eyes trailed back out to the paradise stretching before them, taking it in all over again until Matthew linked their fingers together, tugging gently in the direction of the first bridge.  


  
"Want to show you all of it," Matt mumbled quickly through a proud smile. It reminded Dominic of an excited child showing off something he'd made in the garden, and he followed with a stupid grin on his face despite the thoughts festering in his head.   


  
The bridge was narrow and thin - dangerously fragile in appearance, and yet somehow he stepped onto the pale, pinkish stone without a doubt as to its strength. It merged in a graceful arch with the side of the sky island, the rock giving way to dirt, soil, and the bluish grass.  The plants around him were heavy with huge leaves and vibrant splashes of colour, usually orange, where their flowers were only just supported by thread-like stems. Dominic was sure that most of the vines creeping through the jungle would have glowed at night. If there even _was_ a night.  


  
"This must have taken forever," he wondered, shaking his head.   


  
Matt shrugged with one shoulder, feigning indifference. "Well, it was fun. Not like I've got anything else to do once you're gone."  


  
They explored further through the first island, then the second, the third, until Dominic had almost lost track of how many bridges he'd navigated, or vine ladders he'd clambered up. Turning to look over his shoulder, he noticed the island where the portal had spat them out; it was much plainer, smaller and higher up than the others, carved mostly from rock, and with no water or plants. One pinnacle of rock rose up from its centre like a rusty needle twisting into the sky. He felt a tugging on his hand and turned back just in time for Matthew to pull him aside from the tree trunk he'd almost walked into. The smaller man burst into giggles.  


  
Despite the lack of a sun, heat was blazing down on the steaming earth, and Dom found himself pulling his leather jacket off. Matt copied him, slipping out of his coat and dropping it onto the floor behind them as they walked.  


  
"You've still got slimy shit on your face," he told Dom with a crooked grin, leaning across and thumbing his jawline. His fingers drew a clean path through the drying mud before beckoning, indicating a stream leading to a pool on their right. "Come on. Wash."  


  
Pulling a face, Dominic nodded and crossed the grass to kneel on the grassy bank. The water rippled gently in circles outwards from the two points at which water entered the pool - one small waterfall, and one stream - and was clear enough that he could see pale stone at the bottom, maybe a metre deep, with rock shelves jutting from the sides that almost served as seats just below the water. He paused, about to cup a double handful of water to wash with.  


  
"C'mon, let's just get in," he said as Matt sat next to him. "We can get in, right?"  


  
He expected rolled eyes and a 'of course'. He did not expect a wicked grin and a sharp shove to his back, followed by high-pitched cackling and a rush of hot water as he collided with the pool's surface. Splashing hard, his head dipped beneath the waves. Just as he breached the surface, he gasped for breath only to be hit by a wall of water as Matt charged in after him, both fully clothed, both now soaked to the skin and weighed down. Dominic stood up to let the choppy, surging ripples come up to his sternum and glared. He stared down a helplessly giggling Matt only to feel his lips twitching upwards themselves and slip into a full grin.   


  
It was impossible to glare at a giggling Matthew Bellamy for more than three seconds.  


  
Pouncing, he tackled Matt around the waist and dragged him below the waves again, both struggling and grappling at each other to splash and kick. Their attempts to breathe were interrupted by spluttering, coughing and shrieking laughter - a game silently evolved between them as their shoves edged closer to the waterfall, which was _just_ tall enough for them to stand under. Water crashed white, foaming in bubbles outward from the point of impact, the surface in turmoil from the force of the cascade. One clean shove had Dominic teetering on the very brink of falling beneath the waterfall and he lunged sideways, grabbing Matt by the shirt and hoisting him up until his feet didn't touch the floor.  


  
"Put me _down_ , you _dick-_ "  


  
Dom cackled, dropping a screaming Matt under the hot stream of water and then diving in after him, helping the little writhing figure to the surface and then letting him cough and choke between bursts of laughter, just behind the waterfall. Tilting his head back, Dominic exposed his throat to stare up into the jet, stepping cautiously underneath.   


  
It was like a thick, powerful shower, hammering down on his head and shoulders and then pouring down his sodden clothing. He found himself smiling hopelessly into it with his eyes closed. Before he could turn to encourage Matthew to join him, he felt thin arms snake around his waist and a soft giggle sounded just behind his left ear. It was barely audible over the crashing water.  


  
The hands stroked over his chest and upward until long fingers found the top button of his shirt, lips just beginning a slow, delicate trail over the back of his neck. Dominic closed his eyes again into the cascade and moved his hands to help, quickly sliding his shirt from his back and letting it fall, plummetting below the current and washing underwater to some other corner of the pool. A sudden slip of wet, hot skin pressing to his back, and he noticed Matthew's shirt drifting gradually away from their corner, too.  


  
Twisting in Matt's grip, he held the other man by his waist. "Have I still got shit on my face?"  


  
"No," came the response, "do I?"  


  
"No, you're clean."  


  
"Good," Matthew breathed, and he pulled Dom's face to his.  


  
Dom's body shivered with wet sensation - Matthew's tongue immediately delving inside to claim his mouth, the swift currents of water swirling from his waist down, and the waterfall crashing around their entwined bodies - and he held the smaller man closer. He let his hands roam, admiring the luxurious sliding of baby soft, milky skin beneath his fingers. Matt's body gleamed beneath droplets water. Both of their bodies did; they shone with an orange tint from the sky, which was glimmering brighter and brighter the more intensely Dominic kissed.  


  
Then he felt Matt's fingers slide below the water to his stomach, and then to his abdomen, and then over his waistline until they moved to gently but confidently stroke between his legs.  


  
Dominic's back stiffened and his breath caught on his throat.  


  
"Matt?"  


  
"Mmm?" Matthew hummed, blue eyes flashing mischievously at Dom. Water droplets clung to his eyelashes and dripped from the ends of his soaking hair. "What?"  


  
"Your hand is doing a thing," Dom gasped, just as the hand in question made a very definite fondling movement.  


  
"Mmm, it is," Matt answered, and he pulled the blonde's chin back to continue their kiss before both hands ventured to grapple with his belt buckle. Dominic felt the tugging at his waist and broke the kiss again, staring down at divinely slim, long fingers, distorted by the running water but definitely unbuckling his soaked jeans. A rush of water and freedom met his crotch as those fingers drew his zipper down; Matt began to peel clinging, heavy denim from his waist.  


  
"You're sure you know what you're doing?" he asked hastily, laying his hands over the other man's and stilling them at his hips.   


  
"No," Matthew gave him a deliriously happy giggle, and the hands wriggled free to continue pushing Dominic's jeans down his legs, where they were kicked off along with his shoes, "but I like it."  


  
A rush of tingling heat flooded up Dom's spine as Matt's fingers returned to his crotch - he felt fingernails lightly dragging across his soft length, even through his sodden underwear. His own hands automatically moved to hold Matthew's hips, thumbs rubbing teasing circles into the hard, jutting bumps where hipbones stuck out. The skin there was fragile and sensitive. The little noise of approval that Matt let out was too quiet for either of them to hear over the waterfall.  


  
"Matt," Dom moaned, a hint of a warning to his voice, "if you keep going, I won't be able to stop."  


  
"I don't want you to stop." Matthew's palm laid flat along the other man's shaft and he began to curl his fingers around it, making out its girth, testing the shape of it in his hand.  


  
"I fucking swear to god, Matt, if you don't stop, neither will I."  


  
"Why would I stop?" His lips quirked into a lopsided smile and his eyes flickered up to Dominic's. They were filled with as much innocence as they were confidence. "I love you. You love me. I've feeling brave." He tilted his head to one side slightly before leaning in to meet Dom for a tender, soft kiss - then paused, and then frowned. "Also, these jeans are far too tight for this hard on. 'Specially when they're wet."  


  
Dominic's lips pursed with amusement, his heart still reeling and swelling with affection from Matt's admission. "D'you want me to-"  


  
"Oh god, yes please. It actually hurts."  


  
Snickering and ignoring Matt's sulky 'shut up, Dom', he let his hands slip underwater to carefully, gently unbutton Matthew's black skinny jeans. They clung stubbornly to his hips, cutting a stark contrast as they were slowly dragged down white, skinny thighs. The brush of Dom's knuckles against his skin sent gooseflesh running up the back of Matt's neck, and he gasped softly with relief as he felt his erection spring free.  


  
"Oh my god, that's better," he groaned, one hand instantly shifting to massage his aching balls. "Thought it was gonna fall off."  


  
"Sexy," Dom snorted, rolling his eyes, and then hooked his hands under Matthew's armpits and hauled him into his arms, ignoring a happy yelp of protest. "Come on. If we're going to do this, we're doing it properly."  


  
Matthew clung to Dominic's shoulders with a blissful smile as he was half-lifted out of the water and draped across the man's chest, their wet skin gliding deliciously together with each step. He was carried away from the waterfall and towards the grassy bank where they'd jumped in. Steam rose from the surface here. Matt knew every inch of the pool by heart; when he was lowered gently back into the water, he realised it was just where a shelf of rock lined the bank. It formed a perfect seat. He sank back onto it, settling onto warm stone. In a sitting position then the water rose to the very centre of his chest and the grass clumps formed a pillow just behind his head.  


  
"Legs," he heard Dominic command, and he lifted them up so his jeans could be tugged off properly, his hips wiggling to slide them past his bum. They were dropped to the bank beside his head with a wet crumpling noise, followed by his shoes and then socks. Matt looked up through wet eyelashes as Dom slowed down, standing up straight and then hooking his thumbs into his boxers and ducking down into the water to pull them off.   


  
Dominic stood there for a moment and let his hands drift in the current around his hips, allowing Matthew a moment of silent indulgence. He saw the other man's eyes trailing up and down his body, bashful at first and then more confident as he realised his attention was welcome. The orange light had a very different effect on both of their skins - while it simply added glints of colour to Matt's, it gave Dom's a fiery glow. Matt's line of sight slipped below the water, to the rippling image of smooth dips between hip bones that sloped to long, golden legs; his eyes quickly fixed between those thighs to where he could make out a thick thatch of hair and the dark blur of Dominic's cock, hard beneath the water, and his gaze was only interrupted when the blonde began walking towards him. Dom sat on the rock ledge, causing little waves where he sank into the pool - Matthew felt strong, gentle fingers tracing down his stomach, playing with the soft line of dark hair that ran between his navel and the waistband of his boxers. Shimmering droplets of water cascaded off his skin when he was hoisted upward with a small yelp and lifted onto his front to lie against Dominic's chest, his underwear pushed off gently.  


  
"Oh, god, this is lovely," Matthew moaned, squirming atop Dominic's body. The slip of skin and water blended into one beautiful rush; a warm, liquid embrace. His eyelids closed and he pressed a long, wet kiss to Dom's chest, utterly relaxed, and began to gradually grind his hips. It was slow and sensual; their naked bodies sliding together in complete comfort. Dom's hands moved to cup Matt's bum and caress the soft, pale curve of his cheeks. Hairs rose steadily on the smaller man's arms and he whined softly, pressing his hips further forward, and felt Dominic's cock dragging across his stomach. It was then that he felt one of the hands slip further downward, between his legs. Matthew's heart pounded. He felt fingers stroking and exploring while Dom kissed the top of his head, first stroking just behind his balls, and then one finger slid upwards, and he was touched somewhere he'd never been touched before.  


  
He let out a quick, surprised grunt and clung tighter to Dominic's chest, hands digging in as that one fingertip began to stroke across his hole, occasionally slipping to its very centre and probing gently. Immersed in water and soothed by its warmth, Matt's body was relaxed and the taut ring of muscle yielded easily. Dom let his finger dip inside, slipping the tip back and forth. It was something he always began with when fingering himself - the clusters of nerves here were raw; oversensitive. Matthew's back arched and his breathing was beginning to strain so that every inhalation was a soft gasp.  


  
"Is that okay?" Dom asked gently. Matt nodded and groaned in response, his toes curling up underwater as he felt the fingertip inside slither deeper. He could feel the muscles in his walls squeezing down, contracting and then spasming, unable to decide if they should be pushing the intrusion out or drawing it deeper. Pleasure began to spark in little bolts up the smaller man's spine. After the next inch was pushed in, Dominic curled his finger cruelly upwards into the slick, velvety flesh off Matthew's insides.  


  
"F- _fuck_ ," Matthew cried aloud, his eyes screwed shut as he convulsed against Dom's body. His back flexed and shifted as he wriggled, shoulder blades jutting out, his spine arching and twisting. "More, _please_ more-"  


  
"Another finger?" Dominic murmured. He was panting softly, eyes half closed.   


  
"Yes, _please-_ "  


  
Complying immediately, Dom touched a second fingertip to Matthew's opening and drove it inside to join the first. For someone who had never considered themselves as gay in the past, Matt's body responded startlingly quickly and enthusiastically to the stimulation - in his mind, Dominic saw the smaller man curled up in bed as a teenager, sliding one finger in and out of his hole, whimpering with delight and not sure why it felt so good.  


  
Matthew began to struggle, writhing in an attempt to sit up, forcing Dom's fingers out of his body with a whine of regret. He knelt forward until he was straddling the other man's hips, positioned just above Dom's cock.   


  
"You're going to-?" Dominic gasped, cutting himself off as he noticed Matthew's eagerness. He held the base of his shaft with one hand to help steady himself.  


  
Nibbling nervously on his lower lip, Matt nodded, eyeing the swollen head that would be the first thing to push inside. "I'm ready," he said breathlessly, bracing his hands on Dom's shoulders and lining himself up. "I'm ready for this."  


  
At first, Dom's cockhead was just a soft pressure that Matt felt beneath the water, brushing a path across delicate skin where he felt Dominic's hand guide it backwards, and then it was settled against his hole, lined up but not yet inside. A little noise of encouragement escaped his throat. His thighs were beginning to tremor with the strain of positioning himself above the other man's hips with his muscles tensed, holding him as still as possible amongst the swirling currents of water.  


  
"Oh god," he moaned, pressing his body downwards just a fraction, testing the angle. "This is going to hurt, isn't it?"  


  
Dominic's free hand let go of his hip and moved to stroke Matt's forehead, pushing his fringe back. Hot water trickled and mixed with sweat where wet fingers met pale skin. "It's okay," he murmured; his voice was strained and his breath hitching as he felt Matt rock his hips again, just barely pressing down. Beneath the water, the tip of his cock was welling up with fluid, only for the milky drops to spill and drift, mixing with the pool. "It might. If it hurts too much, tell me, yeah?"  


  
"Oh god," Matt panted, his fingers gripping tighter on both of Dom's shoulders, "oh god, okay. I'm going, I'm gonna do it. I'm just gonna do it. Oh god." He sank downwards, slowly letting his legs relax, and felt the soft, tingling pleasure at his entrance burst into a slow burn. "Oh god. Oh - _god-_ "  


  
His fingernails dug red, crescent-shaped welts into the other man's skin as he felt a thick, solid heat slowly slide upwards, his body forced open as it drove deeper. Dom's entire frame had shuddered, a spasm rushing up his spine, and he whispered a soft, filthy 'yes' into the steamy air that hung above them. Both his hands found Matt's slim hips, kneading bone, then sliding to massage his aching lower back.  


  
"It hurts," Matt panted, immediately tensing his thighs again and pulling himself upward. He felt his insides clench hard and squeeze by reflex, struggling to hold Dom's cock inside even as he felt the hard flesh slip out. Just before the head left him, he paused, tensing in frightened preparation to impale himself onto it again. With the next downwards surge of his hips he felt a spark of pleasure flickering in his core, but the cry that fell from his lips was unmistakably one of pain.  


  
Dom gasped, moving his hands to still the smaller man's bony hips. "Stop, Matt, you don't have to-"  


  
"No, it's okay," the smaller man whimpered, "I want you, I want it, I-"  


  
"Matt." The word was spoken softly, but seriously. "Slow down. There's no rush."  


  
Matthew's movements slowed and he gazed up at Dominic, delirious with arousal and trembling with want, but muscles still taut with discomfort.  


  
"Come here," the blonde said gently, winding his arms around tiny, slender shoulders and pulling Matthew's body against his. Matt melted into the embrace, beginning to relax despite the intrusion still buried in his body. Dominic's hands held him close, stroking and reassuring, tracing warm, solid paths over his sides and back. The pool lapped at their skin, which shone with orange light where the sky caught glittering water droplets. Where waves had peaked in rough splashes a moment before, they now merely ran in soft ripples outwards from where their bodies were joined.   


  
"Is it... does it feel good? For you?" Matthew asked quietly, his breathing still deep, but no longer rapid with anxiety.   


  
Dominic's groan slid into a smile as he let his head fall back. "You have _no_ idea."  


  
Shy laughter sounded across the pool as Matt squirmed, beginning to feel hot coils of bliss whenever he moved slightly - both from inside, and from where his cock was now lying thickly against Dom's stomach, pressed between them and submerged in warm water. He held on tightly to the other man's chest, hot and solid, heartbeat thudding steadily when Matt lay with his ear against it, head curled up so it was tucked just below Dominic's chin. His eyes closed and he let his lips twitch into a contented smile, concentrating on every point of contact between their bodies.  


  
"It doesn't have to hurt."  


  
"Mmm?" Matthew lazily opened his eyes. "Why not?"  


  
"Because you're imagining it hurting," Dominic murmured, one hand still rubbing circles into Matt's lower back, the other hand sheathing itself between soft strands of wet, black hair. "You're nervous and you're probably telling yourself it's worse than it actually is."  


  
Peering up, Matthew brought himself nose to nose with Dom, darkened blonde and black blending where their foreheads touched and damp fringes pressed together. Matt's long, slender hands were draped behind his shoulders. "Can't help it," he replied with a small whine as Dominic's hands slid beneath the water and down his sides, skating fingertips over the sensitive, delicate skin that clung to his ribs before cupping his bum and very, very gently massaging the pale flesh there.   


  
"Yes you can," Dom breathed, "the hot water's relaxed you. You've had enough preparation to take more than this."   


  
He kept a strong hold of Matthew's bum and lifted him slightly, just letting his cock pull out a couple of inches before squeezing back inside again. Fingernails scraped lightly at his back as Matt's eyes shut in a little frown, moaning with pleasure, the crease between his eyebrows deepening.   


  
"It's okay," Dominic continued to whisper, lifting Matt's hips again. Biting his lip at the sensation of the smaller man's walls contracting violently to grip his length as it slid past Matthew's flushed opening, he drove in again, eliciting a delighted moan. "See? Feels good, yeah?"  


  
Matt's affirmative was more of a whimper than a word, eyes rolling back behind their lids as he felt Dom push inside his body repeatedly now, still in shallow, soft thrusts. The more he concentrated on the pleasure blossoming in his abdomen, the further the pain receded to the back of his mind. The ripples on the surface began to increase in height, hitting more and more frequently, and the next time Dominic moved into Matt, he let his cock glide as deeply as possible, filling every space Matthew's body had to offer. Sex-darkened blue eyes shot open, staring directly into Dom's face, and his mouth fell open to let out a long, low, filthy moan.  


  
A delicious shudder ran through Dominic's body at the sight of that small, sharp face caught in shocked ecstasy. His cock twitched and he slipped a few inches out again only to gasp in surprise as Matthew's thighs did the work for him, hips grinding downward beautifully and plunging his cock right to the smaller man's core. Before either could recover from the flood of pleasure, Matt rolled his hips again. Dom let his head fall all the way back until it rested on the grass bank of the pool and groaned throatily, relishing the thick, wet glide of his cock being engulfed in rippling heat as delicate muscles flexed and slid around him, over and over, as Matthew slowly fucked himself. The smaller man's body was quivering, hands slipping and clutching frantically at Dominic's shoulders for support, but his face betrayed nothing but beautiful, dirty gratification. Below his cheekbones, his skin was flushed so darkly that it matched his lips, which were now parted to bare clenched teeth.  


  
Dominic brought one hand around to lightly stroke one finger along the shaft of Matt's erection, tracing a vein, causing him to jerk his hips violently, which accidentally buried Dom's cock to further, silky depths. He was sure he was beginning to leak inside Matthew now, and looking down, he noticed a tiny, pearly string beginning to seep into the water and drift across his stomach, one end still clinging to the slit in Matthew's cockhead, which was flushed darkly and bobbing slightly with the currents of the water. He swiped a finger through the thick juice, watching it break up, and then moved his hand to cradle Matt's erection in his palm as though testing its weight before finally wrapping his fingers around it.   


  
"Do-o-om," Matthew groaned, drawing out the word and hissing softly as Dominic's hand began to move. Every time his hand passed over the head, the pad of his thumb would swipe in a circle over his slit, the slightest hints of precome washed away into the water. The slick tightness inside combined with the firm pulsing of Dom's fist sliding up and down his oversensitive, already weeping cock wracked Matthew's body with pleasure. His basest instincts overtook restraint or apprehension and he snapped his hips down as hard as the water would allow. A piteous cry left his lips at the careless thrust as Dom slammed into him harshly, his spine beginning to ache, but he manage to just barely make out a soft plea for more.  


  
It wasn't fast, but it was rough, Dom's hips arcing smoothly and firmly upwards each time to bury every inch. It was hard to tell if it was sweat sliding down his brow, or water from splashes and Matthew's wet, shaking hands desperately tracing the sides of his face. The frantic paths of those long, slim fingers and the way Matt's eyes insistently kept returning to stare into his - regardless of the number of times they fluttered closed or rolled back into his head with delight - filled Dominic with a surge of affection for the little creature in his lap. He raised his gaze for a moment to take in their surroundings; the paradise Matthew had created for them both.   


  
"C'mere", he panted, not waiting for a response before gathering Matthew up in his arms and holding him close, silencing whines of protest with a long, slow kiss. He sucked gently at Matt's lower lip, drawing a happy noise from the smaller man's throat. An inquisitive tongue delicately probed at the corner of his mouth and he opened up to welcome it inside. Breathing hard through his nose, they slid their tongues together, dragging and curling in a series of loving licks until finding a rhythm.   


  
Dominic almost bit down on the tip of Matthew's tongue when he felt skinny, pale hips shifting on top of him, followed by a blinding wave of pleasure as he felt his cock enveloped in Matt's body once more. He began slipping his tongue back and forth into the soft wetness of Matthew's mouth, entering him twice in each moment; on top of this, he returned one hand to sooth his swollen cock. All three movements - his tongue, his hand, his dick - were at the same pace, with the same speed; while he felt his shaft sink as deep as possible into Matthew's belly, his tongue also licked at the back of his mouth, and his hand squeezed firmly around the base of Matt's cock.  


  
It was too much. Overstimulated, Matthew began to moan. Each moan was high pitched, short and sharp, cutting into the air and the steam. He rocked back and forth, grinding, back arching, eyes rolling, hands clutching Dominic's shoulders, the noises coming from his throat rising as pleasure built alarmingly fast in his centre. His muscles quaked and his heart pounded.   


  
It crossed Dominic's mind for the first time, just as he was struggling to ride yet another wave of bliss without surrendering and coming there and then, that he wasn't sure if it was a perfectly good idea to bring a coma patient to orgasm while inside their mind. Matthew's moans betrayed increasing instability. His body was on the edge. Dominic let his eyes venture upward and found with both a rush of satisfaction and a thrill of fear that the entire sky was swirling. Not clouds - the actual sky, every colour and streak of stars, melting as though to liquid. The moons began to crack. The steam began to sizzle, hissing as unseen currents drove up between its clouds, and the grass trembled as the very ground began to tremor along with Matt's body. Waterfalls poured twice as fast, the rocks splintered and vines clenched in on the plants they climbed in an ecstatic stranglehold, all as Matthew clung tightly to Dominic, riding him steadily to his climax. Grey eyes squeezed shut and Dom pulled his lover close so that their heaving chests melted together, his face buried in damp, dark hair. He didn't want to see the world fall apart around him. He just wanted to feel it.  


  
He didn't know what noise he'd expected Matthew to make when he hit his peak, but the shuddering cry he heard was almost the spark that sent him tumbling over the edge himself. It was a raw sound that started as a moan and then warped into something that was half a plea and half a desperate wail of relief as Matt's body finally convulsed; the spasms of those innermost muscles ended Dom. He let his eyes flash open to watch as Matthew came and realised that the entire world had shifted into a hot white light. Still beneath the water, Matt's cock delivered three thick, streaming globules of white fluid that instantly broke up in the turbulence of the pool, drifting into creamy streaks. It washed and lapped against Dominic's sternum. Dom felt a sudden tight, delicious contraction between his legs and his come shot violently upward to bathe Matthew's aching insides.   


  
"Matt," he groaned, gasping, gazing through heavily lidded eyes to where Matthew's mouth hung open, his  rounded lower lip shining with moisture. The air was still white and hot, but cooling rapidly. Matt's eyes were open but out of focus and his tiny chest heaved, legs shaking, and Dominic realised he was about to collapse.  


  
Before the little mewl of 'Dom, help' had left his lips, strong hands had lifted his slim hips off Dom's lap. Matthew whimpered as he felt the other man's cockhead finally slip free, the burn of his stretched opening at a strange contrast to the soft ripples of warm water that flooded to soothe his skin. Instead of sitting him back in his lap while sore, Dominic fought through his own exhaustion and guided Matthew down to lie down with his head tucked beneath Dom's chin again. The blonde's arms wrapped snugly around his back and held him in place. Matt nuzzled Dom's collarbone and finally fell limp with a happy sigh, spent and satisfied, a glowing sense of security warming him from the inside.  


  
"I think there's water up my bum," he mumbled sleepily.  


  
Dom's soft laughter reverberated through his head. "Lucky water. S'nice up there."  


  
"Why, thankyou," Matt smirked, wiggling his bottom. "Dom?"  


  
"Mmm?"  


  
"Can we do this, sort of, every day?"  


  
"Every time I see you," Dominic promised, laying a tender kiss on Matthew's sweat-dampened forehead, "we'll explore this world a little bit further, and we'll do this, yeah? Like home. I want this place to be my home here."  


  
Matt's eyes slid closed and he nodded. "I'd like that. Proper Eden."  


  
"Hmm?"  


  
"I built it like Eden," he explained, gesturing vaguely with one hand before letting it softly splash back into the pool. "Y'know. Garden where two people live. I dunno. Stupid concept but I stuck with it."  


  
Dominic closed his eyes and tucked Matt's head under his chin, smiling silently up at the sky. "It's perfect. You're perfect. I only wish there was something I could do to repay you."  


  
"Just be here tomorrow," Matthew whispered. They lay in quiet contentment until long after the cracks in the moon had healed.  


  



	8. Chapter 8

Matt sat on a tiny plateau of rock, legs dangling over the side to kick idly back and forth. Dominic's world had been a lonely place for too long now. It wasn't like Dom to be late - not anymore - but Matt waited with a greater degree of patience than usual. He'd probably been exhausted.

  
The slight cracking noise of a rock being kicked along the path rang across the portal island. His head jerked up, eyes flicking from side to side - just around the corner, past the curve of the needle-like pillar of stone that marked the portal, he could hear definite footsteps. Matthew leapt down from his seat, falling a good couple of metres to the path below, but righted himself immediately on impact to half-jog around the corner.  


  
"Took your fucking time," he joked, rounding the rock to take in the figure before him.  


  
His grin slid immediately from his face and his blood ran cold.   


  
"Matthew? Bellamy? Hi. I'm Susan."  


  
The woman continued to walk closer, offering her hand in a greeting. Matt's legs froze, though he felt a desperate urge to walk backwards, away from her, away from her hand, until he maintained a constant and safe distance. His hands shoved deep into his pockets, balling into fists in the still-damp denim depths.  


  
"You're not Dom," he said plainly.   


  
"N-no," she replied, smiling slightly. "No. Well spotted."  


  
"Who the hell are you, then?"  


  
She came to a stop a foot away from him, her hand falling limp when it was answered by nothing more than cold, blue, staring wariness. "I just said, I'm Susan." She raised an eyebrow. "Nice to meet you too."  


  
Matthew did not respond, save for a slow trailing of his eyes that inspected each inch of the new human before him. She was tall - taller than him, at least - and wore a black suit. For a moment, he wondered if she really _was_ wearing that suit, or if he'd mentally projected it onto her. It certainly seemed to fit, and not just in the sense of sizes. Soft, brown hair was scraped back into a neat ponytail and on her wrist there was a delicate silver watch that had no hands.  


  
An office worker. A teacher. A saleswoman. He found it hard to categorise her, and even harder to take an interest in trying.  


  
"What are you doing here?" he asked.  


  
"Just visiting," came the casual reply. Matthew's jaw clenched at a sudden memory that played out across the sky behind her head.  


  
_"I'm just a visitor," the stranger answered, letting his toes dip into the fountain. He let out a little sigh of contentment and continued to slip his legs in until they were underwater to mid-calf._   


  
_Matt curled his upper lip, unnoticed by the other man. "What d'you mean, a visitor?"_   


  
_"Just visiting," he shrugged, rolling his ankles and watching little whirlpools form on the surface above._   


  
_"No one 'just visits' me," Matt retorted, internally wincing at the bitterness in his own voice._   


  
_"Well, I am," the stranger said, quite coolly. "You don't need to be a dick about it. I can leave if you like, but if you let me stay, I'll buy you coffee."_   


  
"You're not just visiting," Matthew smiled humourlessly, snapping back to the present. "And I'm not an idiot."  


  
"Alright, Matthew," Susan replied, her eyes narrowing for the briefest of moments before her expression flicked back to friendly interest. "No, I'm not here as a visitor. I'm researching, just like Dominic Howard, alright?"  


  
Matt frowned, blinking slowly. There was a long, long silence.  


  
_Howard._   


  
_No,_ he thought, _I never actually asked his surname._  


  
Susan interpreted the silence differently. "You _do_ remember Dominic Howard, don't you?"  


  
"Yes," he breathed, nodding almost imperceptibly. "Yeah, I remember him, and the research."  


  
"Alright, excellent," Susan said, her face finally breaking into the genuine, relieved smile that comes with difficult progress. "I'm here to carry on wherever he left off, okay?"  


  
Matt felt his fingernails leaving little curves in the palms of his hands. He nodded numbly.  


  
"Okay. Is there... is there somewhere more comfortable we can talk? We could get coffee?"  


  
Another reeling flashback. Matt's nails almost drew blood.  


  
_"I don't think I'd kill a farmer for a coffee," Dominic frowned, holding the glass door of the coffee shop open for Matthew as he walked through. "It'd rest on my conscience, and then I'd have to go to confession because it's the fifteen-hundreds, and then I'd have to pay the priest."_   


  
_"With chickens and sexual favours?" Matt asked, his composure finally slipping into giggles. It was the first time he'd laughed in as long as he could remember. "Not a particularly worthwhile trade for a latte, then."_   


  
_"No. Not really."_   


  
Matthew felt a very real, very actual fear rising in his stomach for the first time. The wind began to pick up, sending red blossoming through the darkest patches of the sky. The streaks leaked like blood through a bandage.  


  
"Where's Dom?" he asked, voice sounding as small as he felt.  


  
"Dominic's unavailable for this shift," came the reply.  


  
"Un... available?"  


  
She nodded, looking sympathetic for a moment. "That's right."  


  
"Where is he? When's he going to be back?"  


  
"I don't know when he's going to be back."  


  
Matthew left a long gap before speaking. "You only answered one of my questions."  


  
Susan's slight frown betrayed impatience; she folded her arms and shifted her weight onto the other foot, brown eyes straying to the landscape around them. She'd expected the testing to start before now.  


  
"I don't know exactly where he is, but I'm sure he'll be back soon." _Well,_ she thought, _it was only a half lie. Technically_. "Come on, Matt, let's race through this, yeah?"  


  
"I don't trust you."  


  
She let out a barely disguised sigh of exasperation. "What, do you want to see the checklist? I can go through the bloody checklist with you if you like, for Christ's sake, it won't take _long_ -"  


  
Matthew gave up, turning away from her with a twisted snarl, stalking back towards the bridge to the first sky island. If he didn't imagine her - if he ignored her, blanked her, forgot her - she couldn't stay. He reached the island, feeling soft grass slip between his toes, and turned around. She was directly behind him, slightly flustered from striding across the bridge. Little wisps of hair were beginning to come loose from her ponytail.  


  
"Matthew, god damn it, I'm trying to _help,_ I'm-"  


  
"Tell me where Dom is," he demanded through clenched teeth. "Either fuck off and leave me alone, or tell me where Dom is."  


  
She almost rolled her eyes, but stopped with a wave of anxiety as she noticed the sky swirling lower and lower, the world darkening ominously. She'd never been in Synapse before.   


  
"I don't know exactly where he is," Susan answered, banking her hopes on the theory that honesty would placate him more effectively than gentle encouragement. A theory - for the record - based on her understanding of Matthew's mind, which at this point equalled precisely dick all. "I was only told what happened to him, and that he's incapable of completing his research with you. I'm a replacement therapist."  


  
Matt's face went paler than usual. "Incapable?"  


  
"Yes," she nodded helpfully, glad that she'd finally got through to him. "Now, if we-"  


  
_"Incapable?"_ he asked, the word a cold hiss. "What does _incapable_ mean?"  


  
"I can't tell you, I'm really not supposed to-"  


  
Yanking his hands out of his pockets, he advanced on her, his face filled with fury. "Of course you're not allowed to give a straight fucking answer. Get out of my sight. Get out of my ward, and get the _fuck_ out of my head."  


  
Concealing her nerves with a cool mask, Susan faced him down, her extra few inches in height making the difference.   


  
"You're just a test subject to me, Matthew," she said calmly. "I know it's difficult, but I think you need to realise that. It will make things easier. You may as well be a brain in a jar, and we have no problems with throwing away a brain that isn't much use to anyone any longer. Though, to be honest, we can probably conduct this research with or without your co-operation."  


  
" _Probably?_ " he spat, the word followed by a hollow, hostile laugh.  


  
She nodded slowly. "There are only one or two items left unchecked that I am required to test for within the system. One of them is pain."  


  
"You can't hurt me," he giggled deliriously, backing away from her and raising his arms to the sky. "It's _my_ head, I can do whatever the hell I _like_ in it."  


  
Susan smiled thinly. "The systems of the brain responsible for emotional pain are the same responsible for physical pain. Did you know that?"  


  
"Yes," he retorted. It was a shaky lie at best.  


  
"In which case, you also know that the physical limitations of Synapse aren't relevant in testing pain. We'll measure it in levels. I'll be back tomorrow to-"  


  
"Wh- no!" he shouted back. "No, I _know_ pain works here, _I'm_ the one who feels it! You can't just-"  


  
"I'll be back tomorrow to see how you're doing," she spoke over him.  


  
Turning on her heel, Susan retraced her steps and began to cross the bridge, her shoes clacking against the stone as she left. Matthew wanted to scream and shout her out of the world; to force her back to the portal or shove her off a bridge, to spit at her feet, to snarl that this was Dominic's world now and that she was not welcome. He also wanted to follow her like a lost child, and cry, and desperately ask and plead with her that Dom was at least safe. Instead, he stood in stunned, shocked silence, and watched her walk slowly behind the nearest wall of rock before vanishing from view.  


  
Matthew threw himself to the edge of the cliff in a surge of rage and sat on the brink of earth and sky, swinging his legs over the side and staring right out to the blank, fiery abyss beyond his island. His eyes reflected swirling orange which deepened, seeping outward from where his glare was pinpointed into the most sinister, cutting red. It bled in clouds and waves, scarlet, and dripped until its centre darkened further. Blackened violet blossomed as he clenched his fists. His chest began to ache. Jaw clenching, he let his stare trail toward the top of the inside of the globe. The searing crimson and purple followed, tearing a long, vertical gash in the sky. Tears began to burn at the corners of his eyes, and he wasn't sure if they were from anger or despair.  


  
The sky leaked darkness out from that new slit, clouds now tumbling with blackness. The water around him stopped reflecting light. It dulled, the ripples whipped into cruel peaks by a newly savage wind. Flowers withered. Matt's black shirt fluttered around his arms, pitifully thin against the raging sky. The only sliver of orange now was a bleeding glow on the horizon behind him; a bitter sunset.  


  
Incapable.  


  
He wasn't sure if he even wanted to imagine what 'incapable' meant, but he imagined it anyway. _Because that's what I do now_ , he thought with a sick smirk. _I imagine_.  


  
_Incapable._   


  
He imagined Dominic stretched out in an ambulance. It was the first, logical image that his brain offered him. The ambulance made a lot of sense. Dom was always exhausted by the end of his visits. He never said so - never admitted it - but Matt could tell. Presumably he had to drive home from hospital each day. Maybe he was just one shade too tired that night; maybe he wasn't concentrating and maybe he ran his car off the road. An image flashed through his thoughts of blonde hair matted and darkened with blood, Dom's body a frail heap beneath white sheets on a stretcher. Each breath would be a shaky, weak hiss through an oxygen mask.  


  
If he was breathing at all. In the second image, his face was covered by the sheets too.  


  
Not for the first time, Matthew wondered how long he had left to live. They never spoke about his condition. He didn't think he wanted to know and Dom always seemed to sense that it wasn't something he wanted to hear, but now, for the first time, he felt a frantic need to know more. Whichever way he looked at it, Dom had been taken away from him and - as far as he could tell - he wouldn't survive to see his return.  


  
Matthew covered his eyes with one hand in a strange wave of shame as tears spilled down his cheeks. He curled his lips in a silent, shaking snarl, teeth bared, and stood to twist and stare at their dark Eden. Vines choked and water froze. Flowers had curled in on themselves, standing as icy gravestones to whatever life had teemed there moments ago. The rocks were splitting and melting all at once, their cores heating and bursting in shuddering explosions to pour in molten streams; even as Matthew stared in horror and sorrow, the trickles ran down the faces of stone and caught withered grass. Black mist settled as grey smoke rose up, and he curled up in misery - a tiny universe destroying itself; a god forsaking his creation.  


  
Outside of his mind, Matthew's heart monitor continued with a calm, steady beeping.  


  
Susan shrugged out of her headset and pulled wires from her forehead, kicking at the floor to shove her swivel chair away from the keyboard. A quick shudder ran through her as she adjusted to the new temperature and humidity. She gazed long and hard at Matt's face with curiosity before swinging out of the doorway, wandering along sterile corridors towards Evan's office. Black heels clacked on white tiles.  


  
Moments before tapping on the door with her knuckles, she froze, hearing voices inside. She probably wouldn't have bothered stopping to listen if she hadn't heard her own name.  


  
"Dominic, it's for his own good. Susan's-"  


  
"How?!" Dom's voice neared on a shriek. "I've just turned up to do my bloody shift. _How_ is this for his benefit?"  


  
Evan wiped a hand over his forehead, his expression already implying that the conversation had lived far longer than he'd have liked. "Come on, let's keep this civil. It's my reasoning that Susan would be a more suitable therapist from this point onwards."  


  
Dom shook his head, but took a deep breath and lowered his voice. "It seems cruel to change everything around. He was confused enough as it was when _I_ first arrived, let alone throwing someone new in there. I mean," he bit his lip, "it's not like he's got _long_ , is it?"  


  
"That's the _point_ ," Evan told him. "His family will be coming around soon. Saying goodbye, you know. And I think, in their eyes, Susan will look like a far more professional and trustworthy therapist than you do."  


  
Dom held his arms in a  sarcastic shrug and pulled a face, eyes narrowed and incredulous, mouth poised open like he wasn't even sure that the statement was worth dignifying with a question. "How is she more-"  


  
"Oh, come on, Dominic, there's CCTV footage of you kissing his forehead last night. I'm not stupid."  


  
His body went cold. He'd forgotten about cameras. For a few moments, there was only the sound of Evan's computer, whirring softly in the corner of the room.  


  
"I'll keep it quiet from his family," Evan continued, his voice turning cold and almost too quiet for Susan to hear - she pressed her ear closer to the door - "but for the program's sake, not yours. Can you imagine if this got out? I mean, what were you _thinking?_ This thing's secret as it is; think of the fucking _headlines!_ " He pulled a face, fingers shaped as quote marks. " _'Coma communication breakthrough'_ would pretty much warp into _'Therapist engages in perverted sex trials with coma patient'_. It'd - it _would!_ " he insisted, staring down Dominic's last attempts to challenge him. "It'd kill the program before it even started. Investors, research - thousands of hours of work. The _year_ you spent learning to use the software. Total waste."  


  
Dom nodded once, slowly.  


  
"Can I just - can I maybe log in? Once? Just to say goodbye," he asked. He tried not to sound desperate but his eyes were pleading.  


  
Evan shook his head. "You're suspended, Dominic. I know about the password change, too. Seriously. You couldn't have handled this thing less professionally if you'd tried. You're-"  


  
"Please."  


  
"Go home, Dominic." He walked past the smaller man, pulling the door open for him - Susan leapt back as though scorched the second she saw the handle twist, arranging herself in a patient slouch against the opposite wall. She picked at her nails, smiling slightly at Evan as he held the door open.   


  
Dom barely acknowledged her as he brushed past, his mind blind with numb, shocked grief. He shrugged his backpack further up his shoulder before walking to the end of the corridor. On the right were the signs towards Matthew's room and to the left the signs pointed to the car park. He briefly glanced both ways before turning left.  



	9. Chapter 9

"What do you _mean_ he won't?"

  
"I mean that he _won't,_ " Susan shrugged. "We really didn't... _click_. We did the opposite of clicking, if that's even a thing. He was cold at best, and hostile at worst."  


  
Evan groaned, settling into his desk chair and running his hands through his short, pale brown hair. "Alright. What's left?"  


  
"You want the checklist?"  


  
"Yeah, the last items. See if we can rush through them without consent." He rubbed his eyes, switching on the monitor to his computer. "Christ, this thing couldn't be much more bollocksed up if we tried. We'll call it preliminary research."  


  
"It'll delay publication," Susan muttered, pulling a memory stick out of her pocket and handing it over. "We're going to need to follow up with further case studies in minds that function on a similar level to his."  


  
"Fantastic." Evan sneered and slipped the USB drive in, pulling up the files ripped from Dominic's laptop - it had taken an afternoon, but they'd managed to bypass the altered password. "Because there are just hundreds of coma patients like that, aren't there."  


  
A wry smile flitted across Susan's face. "There _are_ laws against us putting creative people _into_ comas, aren't there?"  


  
"Probably," he snorted, and opened Matthew's case history.  


  
_SYNAPSE software 2.1_   


_Therapist: Dominic Howard_

_Logins: 6_

_Subject: Matthew Bellamy_

_Notes: The checklist seems redundant at this point - reality within Matthew's mind isn't constrained to laws and tick boxes, but runs as a simulation. His imagination has created a reflection of the waking world. Emotions and distractions distort the world much as a computer's processes slow down when overloaded. However, here are the points I've specifically observed._

  
Their eyes scrolled down the list, noting that all but two categories had been filled.  


  
"Oh, they _have_ done pain." Susan raised her eyebrows.  


  
"Bloody hell. _Growth?_ How the hell are we going to observe _growth?"_ Evan played with the scroll wheel in frustration. "And digestion? What do we do, bake him a cake and wait until he takes a shit?"  


  
Blue eyes rolled. "Those points were intended to be settled through conversation."  


  
"Well, so was 'sexuality', but someone buggered that right up, didn't they." He paused. "Pun not intended."  


  
Susan stood up, heading for the door. "This is why I'm telling you that he _won't_ talk with me. It took months to learn to use the thing; it's not like we can train someone else up. I know it's not ideal right now, but we've got to bring Dominic back to log in. Just one more time. He goes in, he comes out, and we terminate the program."  


  
Evan's nod was curt with reluctance, but it _was_ a nod. Waving her out with a blank smile, he stared back at the screen, scrolling through the research. His eyes stopped at a final note at the bottom of the very latest entry.  


  
_He's going to die. I belong to a dead man._   


*

  
Dominic's hand brushed the ivy of the portal wall, and it fell away in shrivelled, ashen curls. He gazed down at his hand as the leaves crisped into tiny flakes and filtered between his fingers before fluttering to the floor.  


  
Something was very wrong.  


  
Shoving through the curtain and ignoring the shower of dead fragments that tumbled down to catch in his hair and on his shoulders, he emerged on the sky island and stared out at the landscape before him.  


  
It wasn't so much a paradise as a wasteland. Steam had become smoke. The clouds overhead boiled and festered in swirls of black and grey, and the waterfalls had frozen where they fell to form treacherous shards that stretched in fragile spines between each island. Some areas were sunken beneath puddles. Rocks had shattered from the inside out, dashing their surroundings with spikes that had embedded in withered grass, which glittered with dark dew. Dominic walked forward slowly with wide eyes, grey taking in grey, breathing in the ash of a million burnt leaves.  


  
Through the smoke, he could tell that one of the islands was darker than the others, as though cast beneath its own shadow. Almost instinctively, he started at a jog towards it. It was when he was just crossing the sixth bridge to step onto its smouldering surface that he recognised it as the island they had made love on; he slowed to a walk and made his way to the pool.  


  
Dominic rounded the corner to see Matthew sitting naked and with his back to him at the side of the frozen water. He was playing with the grass around where he sat, crumbling it up and watching it sift between his fingers. A section of the ice on the water's surface had been smashed through so that his pale, numb legs could hang down, dangling into its black depths, toes blue. He looked frozen and pitifully small.  


  
"Matt," Dom gasped, stumbling forwards and kicking up tiny ash clouds as his feet hit the ground. Matthew's head whipped around, his entire body suddenly tense, and he winced with pain at the strain the movement put on his aching, chilled muscles. Before he could find the breath to speak, Dominic had dropped to the ground and pulled him into the warmest, closest embrace that he could have possibly imagined.  


  
"You're not dead," Matthew whispered, his teeth chattering. The words came out in stutters with his shivering. Dom ignored him, clutching the tiny body to his chest and rubbing warmth into it.   


  
"Get your legs out of there," he said, and helped ease them up and out of the freezing liquid. Matt whimpered with pain and cold as they scraped past shards of ice on the way out. "Come on, baby, let's warm you up, yeah?"  


  
Matthew gave the slightest of nods and he was hugged closer, warmth sparking in his chest as he felt the familiar, solid comfort of Dominic's body pressed against his. He didn't understand but he didn't care either. He felt himself lift up slightly, half cradled, and when he looked down then he saw his legs dragging heavily through the dead grass behind where he was being carried. He couldn't feel them. Ash kept sticking to the wet skin.  


  
"Blankets," Dom murmured, laying him down onto the cold ground. "Lots of blankets?"  


  
"Behind the..." Matt shivered and curled in on himself at the loss of Dominic's body heat. "B-behind the rocks."  


  
Following a pointing finger, Dominic ran behind the nearest ledge of rock and found a heap of duvets and blankets; as he gathered them up, he noticed they were slightly warm. He dragged them back, trying his hardest to keep them above the ash. The first, thickest duvet went down as a mattress. One of his arms looped under Matthew's shoulders and the other just behind his knees so he could be lifted onto the makeshift bed.  


  
"Maybe hold me?" Matt asked quietly, almost shyly.   


  
Dominic nodded and laid a thick blanket over him, followed by another. He draped the last heavy blanket over the huddled figure in the sheets and then shrugged out of his jacket before untying his shoelaces and unbuttoning his trousers.  


  
"What're you doing?" Matthew pouted, his head tucked under the bedclothes for warmth. He felt the sheets being tugged and rearranged as Dominic slid in beside him. His body was gathered up and dragged closer, their two figures entwining, and Matt made a little noise at the sensation of hot, smooth skin covering him.  


  
"Needed to feel you," came a low voice by his ear, and he felt warmth flickering in his stomach as slow kisses trailed down the side of his face. Fingers ran through dark hair and Matthew let himself fall limp, his trembling stilling, wrapped in a soft cuddle. Gentle heat seeped through their bare, tangled bodies and through to his bones. His lips were blue, but Dominic kissed them anyway, his tongue delicately delving inside and sending shivers down Matthew's spine that had nothing to do with the temperature.  


  
"Warming up now," he giggled weakly, burrowing into Dom's neck and listening to their heartbeats beneath the blankets, almost in time with one another. Outside the covers, the grass began to curl upright and strengthen in a creeping wave out from where they lay. A patch of sky lightened to violet above them, its centre glowing scarlet. Dominic shut his eyes tight, smiling softly into his hair and skimming one hand down Matt's body, tracing ribs as he went. He let his fingertips barely tease the warmed skin, sending Matt wriggling, and then settled with his hand resting on the other man's abdomen, his thumb just crooked in his navel.   


  
"It's so good to see you. I thought I wouldn't."  


  
Matt nodded, the movement bumping his head against Dom's chin. "What happened?"  


  
"She didn't tell you, then," Dominic said quietly. "They know about us, Matt. I've been fired."  


  
Another little nod. "How did you get out of that one?"  


  
"I didn't."  


  
"Oh."  


  
Matthew felt himself being held tighter. One of Dom's hands cradled the back of his head, pulling him closer into his arms, like he was trying to fuse their bodies together. Like he was something precious that he wanted to keep safe. Like there wasn't long left to try.  


  
"I'm dying, aren't I?"  


  
Dominic swallowed, and the gulping sound travelled down the column of his throat, along Matthew's cheek. "Yep."  


  
The smaller man tightened his jaw, shrinking into Dom's chest, feeling the slightest, softest tufts of hair there as he did so. "When?"  


  
"Soon. Within a week they'll turn off your life support." He stroked his hand through Matt's hair. "Synapse will be disconnected tonight, though. This is my last visit."  


  
There wasn't anything he could think of saying to respond to that.  


  
"What are you going to do? When I'm dead?" he asked.  


  
Dom shrugged with one shoulder and tilted his head to wipe away a tear with it, smiling crookedly. "Get a dog."  


  
A dozen jokes shot through Matt's mind but he bit his lip, nodding once. It had been a stupid question. Of course he knew what Dom was going to do. He was going to go home, and get into bed, and sleep, and then stand up and shower, and piss, and eat, and search for a job. Then he was going to do his food shopping. Fuel up his car. Attend a job interview in a new shirt. Smile. Breathe in, and breathe out. And then one day, maybe weeks, maybe months from now, he'd see a paper boat or a kimono or a bus headed to Trafalgar Square, and he'd drop the bags of shopping.  


  
"I'm sorry," he whispered.  


  
"Nah, don't be," Dominic shifted, tangling their legs tighter together. "I'll do everything I can. _I'm_ sorry if I mess it all up." He paused, kissing the top of his head. "Least if it all goes wrong, you won't be able to shout at me."  


  
Matthew snorted. "What exactly _can_ you do?"  


  
"It'll be your family. They'll come in and say goodbye and then unplug you. Most people get unplugged after about four months because the brain starts getting too damaged to wake up around then."  


  
Matthew raised a hand to his head, frowning.  


  
"No, not you." Dom sighed. "Look at this place, Matt, for fuck's sake. I refuse to believe you're brain damaged."  


  
Wriggling up until they were nose to nose, Matt frowned. "You can't just tell them that you don't think I'm brain damaged. They won't believe you. Might go badly."  


  
His stomach dropped. "...No?"  


  
"No. For god's sake, don't tell them we're in love, either. That wouldn't go down well."  


  
Dread settled in Dominic's stomach, and his face fell.  


  
"Tell you what," Matt said, one hand stroking Dom's cheek, "tell my brother that I'm sorry for accidentally killing his pet goldfish when I was six. He thought it was the cat, but I poured Fairy Liquid into the tank and it died. While he was at football practice I swapped all the bubbly water for clean water and threw the fish out of the bedroom window, which is why they found it rotting in the bird bath a month later."  


  
Dominic smiled confusedly, blinking hard. "Alright, but I don't-"  


  
"And tell my sister," he continued, laying one long finger across Dom's lips, "that when she thought all of her make up had been thrown out as a punishment for getting caught snogging Ryan Hollingsworth, it was actually because I was fourteen and curious, and I made a _stunning_ Matilda."  


  
Giggles echoed across the island, Dom wiping the last tracks of old tears away with the heel of his hand.  


  
"And tell my mum that I used to nick her car and take it out at night when I was eighteen, before I could afford my own, and I know she used to keep a bullet vibrator in the glove compartment."  


  
Dom burst into laughter, shutting his eyes tight and mumbling past Matt's fingers over his lips. "I'm not fucking telling your m-"  


  
"They're things that no one else knows," Matthew spoke over him softly. "You couldn't possibly know them unless I'd specifically told them to you. It'll tell them that I'm alive and well in here, brain undamaged, really not in the mood to be unplugged."  


  
"I'll remember," he smiled, and drew the other man into a slow, tender kiss.   


  
Their bodies laced together, a double helix of hips, spines and limbs, and shifted in quiet bliss against one another. Fingers intertwined with hair. Mouths brushed and soft declarations of devotion tumbled from their lips. It was deeply intimate coupling; at first, only kisses and fingertips and gentle whispers, and then their bodies stirred, craving closeness beyond cuddling. The noises that passed between them as Dominic covered Matthew couldn't be defined as words - they were little hums and moans, set against the soundtrack of quickening breathing and shifting sheets. Matt bit his lip and swallowed his cry of pain as he was entered, and felt kisses rain over his face in return. Every slip of skin and rush of blood and whispered name came more urgently, more frequently, until the healing world around them began to crumble down with Matthew's mind, wracked with pleasure and drowning beneath Dominic's passion. The very ground they lay on shuddered as they found blissful union in one another. Overcome with exhaustion and affection, they entwined as one between soiled sheets. Dom gently kissed each of his closed eyelids in turn.  


  
"I could sleep," Matt mumbled happily into his cheek.  


  
"No you couldn't."  


  
"No, you're right, I couldn't," he grinned, cracking an eye open. His fringe was stroked back repeatedly, gently thumbed away from a sweat-dampened forehead.   


  
Dom smiled down at him. "Do you know what ancient Christians sometimes believed about earthquakes?"  


  
"Mmm? No?"  


  
"They thought they were caused by men fucking," he giggled, pressing a kiss to Matt's forehead.   


  
"Smart Christians," Matt purred with one eyebrow raised, his smile spreading into a wonky grin. He wriggled beneath Dom, pulling a face at the stickiness sliding down his stomach and over his thighs. "Can you walk?"  


  
"I... yeah, I can get up," he replied, head crooked sideways in a silent query.  


  
"Want to show you something," came the reply. All four of Matthew's limbs simultaneously attacked him in some way as the smaller man writhed into a more upright position. Dominic shoved him off playfully before taking hold of his hips and dragging him closer again to wipe away the drying come on his belly with the corner of a blanket. It took far longer than it should have, considering the belly in question was constantly squirming away.   


  
"Stay still, you twat."  


  
"I _am_ still," he pouted, pulling Dom up by his arms and staggering to his feet. They struggled out of the blankets and stretched out, letting toes sift through newly revived grass stems - Matthew led the way to the bridge opposite their waterfall, his fingers trailing through vines as they passed thick clusters of wildly growing ferns. The islands were almost restored, though Dominic was sure they had glowed with richer intensity before. He shook toxic thoughts from his head and followed, taking Matthew's hand and squeezing it as they rounded a cliff face.  


  
The plateau before them was made of grass that fell away into open sky on all sides, without trees or rocks - just a flat, blank clearing, empty save for a white piano in the centre. The grass was trodden down in a path between where they stood and where the piano stool stood. Dom's face spread slowly into a grin.  


  
"Shut up," Matt snorted. He circled the stool and settled onto it, the soft leather sinking against his bare skin. Dom held his hands up in quiet defence, his grin widening even further.  


  
Matthew's fingers fluttered nervously as he sat at the piano, blushing at the pedals as he found them with his bare feet.  


  
"Don't fucking stand there, go sit behind me," he muttered with an awkward giggle. "Easier that way. Don't have to look at you looking at me."  


  
Dom rolled his eyes and obediently walked behind the piano stool, smiling at the ground.  


  
"No, wait, go back."  


  
"Go back?" he asked.  


  
"Yeah, go back, I keep thinking you're going to disappear if I can't see you," Matthew mumbled, and Dom stepped forward to wind his arms around his shoulders and kiss the top of his head from behind.  


  
"I'm here, you can feel me," he whispered. "Go ahead."  


  
Trembling fingertips found the first chord, and it was struck surprisingly hard in combination with the cascade of softer notes that followed. Dominic felt the body beneath his hands strain and tense as Matthew leant forward with his eyes shut, finding it easier behind closed lids. Dom felt the impression that the keys were stroked and teased into a melody rather than pressed in a specific order; that Matt was merely using his fingertips to encourage each note out - he slipped his hands from those small shoulders, stepping around to the side of the piano again. In sight, but no longer touching.   


  
No longer held, Matthew's body moved with his fingers in an almost unconscious rhythm, just slightly swaying as the music began to rise and evolve. His shadow flexed and shifted amongst a light that grew gradually more orange as he played. The sunlight glinted off the keys, stuttering when his fingers flickered over them, ivory on ivory. He was the instrument; the music, the sky, the warmth of the air, the vastness of the fiery void above and below them. He was the world and all he had poured into it. For a moment, Dominic thought he almost possessed an air of majesty, but then Matt caught his gaze and gave a stupid giggle, crooked tooth showing, eyes gleaming happily.  


  
Though he giggled back, grief began crawling in the back of his brain. He fought to suppress the realisation that this was probably the last time he'd see those eyes open, concentrating instead on devoting every detail of this one moment to memory. Every messy strand of hair and every time Matthew bit his lip. The touch of eyelashes fluttering down to lie against pale skin whenever he closed his eyes. Tendons straining from wrist to knuckle; ribs just showing through his chest. Bare skin glowing. A beautiful indecision between an urge to worship and an urge to protect; to cover the adorable, vulnerable little creature before him. Dominic felt his breathing deepen and quicken. His heart leapt at a sudden crescendo of chords and then the sound began to fall away, cooling and fading. The same few notes trailed out, repeating, looping, backed by ever-sinking chords until the only thing left of the song was a low, echoing thrum in the body of piano - the last vibrations of struck strings dwindling into silence.   


  
"Done," Matt announced awkwardly, pulling a face, and his hands recoiled from the piano keys to twist together and then hug his chest. He looked up and the little smile on his face slipped away as he noticed tear tracks staining Dominic's cheeks. He stood up, lifted his arms, and took the other man in a heart-wrenchingly tender embrace. He was snuffling, burying his nose in Matthew's shoulder and ignoring where a sharp collarbone jutted into his cheek.  


  
"I love you," Dom breathed against his skin.  


  
Matt felt it in the air; the change in mood, and the sudden, final way that he was hugged more roughly than before.  


  
"You have to leave, don't you?"  


  
"Yes," he nodded, kissing up Matthew's neck and stroking his hair. "Have to go now."  


  
"It's not goodbye," Matt told him firmly, taking his jaw in both hands to stare seriously into his grey eyes. "Don't say goodbye."  


  
"Yes it is."  


  
"No, it's _not_."  


  
Dominic kept nodding, ignoring Matt and nodding harder when he began to shake his head in response, until they were both in a silent battle to out-gesture the other, like that would win the fight. At any other moment, they'd have burst into giggles. Instead, another tear tumbled down Dom's cheek.   


  
"It's goodbye," he whispered. "Don't take it away from me, I need this goodbye. I don't think you're going to survive. I want to know that I said goodbye properly, Matt."  


  
"I don't like goodbyes," Matthew said quietly. His chin trembled, just a little, and Dom knew he was trying to look stronger than he was. He was reminded of the tiny, clingy, lonely Matt that he'd discovered on his very first visits.  


  
"I won't forget you," Dominic promised, cupping his lover's face and watching as tears finally fell. "I owe you so much. I've found truer love in the last week than I have in twenty three years. I need to thank you for that."  


  
"I'll always be with you," Matt blurted out, choking on tears but managing a smile. "If I'm dead, I'll find some way to haunt you. Imagine that, Dom." He giggled, the sound slightly hysterical. "Whenever you're in the shower I'll juggle soap, just to freak you out."  


  
Dom's mouth couldn't decide on a shape - weeping one moment, smiling the next. He leaned in and solved the issue by pressing their lips together, and felt Matthew's thin arms wind around the back of his head for one last kiss. It was somehow desperate without being rough. One of them would begin to pull away, sensing the end of the kiss, and the other would wind their fingers through their hair to draw them back in, unwilling to concede. When their mouths finally parted, Matthew's eyes were red and tears glittered in his eyelashes.  


  
"I love you," he managed to whimper, and then covered his mouth with a shaking hand and stepped back. "Go on. Go, love."  


  
Dominic mouthed the words back breathlessly and began walking backwards, further, the tears now trickling freely. His breath hitched loudly in a sob and it was the last thing Matthew heard from him. Turning around, he glanced back once and saw nothing but a blurred orange film over his vision. He slipped behind the rock face and disappeared. Synapse powered down.  



	10. Chapter 10

The first indication that Dominic had logged out came in the form of clothes - the thin cotton of his shirt clinging to his back, and the leather jacket above that, which he hadn't bothered taking the time to remove before he'd thrown himself into the swivel chair. His eyes were fixed on the black screen before him, wide with sorrow, and his fingers curled up from their position on the keyboard, retracting from the keys. He lifted a hand to pull away the electrodes attached to his face and noticed that they fell away more easily than usual, their surfaces weakened in the lines drawn by tears. Permanently disconnected. Sniffing, he dropped them to the floor and cautiously turned around. 

  
"Well?" Susan asked. Her voice betrayed nothing but eagerness. "What did he say?"  


  
Dom looked over at Matthew's figure on the bed and wiped away a tear, unable to meet her eye. He shrugged with one shoulder.  


  
The voice rose with impatience. He got the feeling that if they hadn't been in a hospital - if they'd been somewhere deserted - then it would have climbed up to a screech. "Did you even _ask him?"_  


  
Another side shrug, and he lowered his gaze to the floor. "Not now, okay?"  


  
She looked down at him with furious but controlled contempt, bottled like fire behind tight lips, and turned on her heel to stalk out of the room. Clacking heels receded down the hospital corridor and Dominic breathed out shakily, wiping his eyes again on the back of his shirt sleeve.  


  
He crept closer to Matthew on the bed, switching seats to perch on the chair beside his pillows, and worked up the courage to gaze down at his face.  


  
Body slumping slightly, his hand found Matthew's, fingers gently lacing between the long, pale digits; he thumbed his palm with care, making sure not to bump the tube that disappeared beneath a plaster and into the back of his hand. The plastic of his hospital wristband dug into Dominic's arm. It hurt to see Matthew's face so devoid of expression. His lips hung open to accomodate another tube, keeping his airway open, and weak breaths rattled through his throat. Dom moved to stroke his face instead, letting his thumb rest on the sharp angles of one white cheekbone; swallowing, he tried to pretend it was just the face of a man in a deep and peaceful sleep rather than a death mask. He counted each frail breath to pass the time but found their infrequency unnerving, and switched to counting the bleeps of Matthew's heart monitor - a regular, digital pulse.  


  
He wondered what Matt was doing at that moment, in his mind. Waiting for death, or waiting to wake. Sighing, he moved to rest his head in the centre of Matthew's chest, carefully avoiding the tangle of tubes and wires, letting his cheek sink into warm sheets. He wrapped his arms loosely around the man's sides. His ear was pressed squarely against his sternum; the soft movements and low thrum of Matt's heart and lungs working in his body sent him a wave of comfort.   


  
He was still alive in there. He'd find a way out.  


  
Dom yawned quietly, stifling the noise with Matthew's chest, and let his eyes slide closed. Synapse never _quite_ simulated realistically - it was a startlingly accurate representation, but the images and sensations transmitted to his brain in tandem with code scrolling across the screen before him could never be described as real. While he knew exactly what it felt like to hold Matt, he'd never actually held him. He'd never felt his weight in his arms, or known exactly what it meant to run fingers through his hair. Like a memory - much like the ease at which experience and sensation can be recalled and relived - their experiences were cold implants in his brain, and his body was all too aware of the emptiness left in their wake.  


  
This - in the hospital bed, sleepily half-draped over Matthew's chest - _this_ was real. It almost hurt to imagine anything closer transpiring between them.   


  
_Too much imagining._   


  
He pressed a little kiss to the sheets below his mouth and let exhaustion catch up with him. The last week had been a disorienting whirl of space shared between worlds, snatching sleep wherever he had a spare moment, and his sense of time was utterly shattered. Machines hissed a soft, sterile lullaby. He sank down into Matt's chest and slipped away.  


  
*  


  
Prodded hard in the arm.  


  
"Nggh?"  


  
"Dominic," came a sharp voice, and the prodding happened again. He flinched away, instantly aware of a heart monitor, and lurched upright. The sheets had carved vein-like channels into his cheek where he'd slept. "You have to leave now."  


  
He twisted around, wincing at the stab of a crick in his neck, and found himself staring up into Evan's hard brown gaze.   


  
"Why?" he managed.  


  
"You've got five minutes," came the reply, and the older man actually grabbed his arm with the intention of hauling him to his feet. That gesture communicated the urgency better than any other, and Dom's mind snapped out of its sleepy haze.   


  
"What happens in five minutes?" he asked. His mouth felt unnaturally dry all of a sudden.  


  
Evan moved as though to guide him out of the room, but Dominic stood still and folded his arms over his chest.   


  
"His family are in reception now. They'll be up in five to say goodbye, and then we're switching him off."  


  
Dom felt the blood drain from his face, crawling at his skin as it did so.  


  
_"...Now?"_   


  
"Yeah, now. You need to get out of here bef-"  


  
Terror and fury made a surprisingly effective mix. "We can leave him longer than this. I'm convinced he's stable enough to wake up of his own accord, if we give him time."  


  
"Well, tell his family that. Actually, don't," Evan sighed, gesturing in vain at the door again. "I called them up as soon as Susan reported that we could terminate Synapse to tell them he's passed the four month threshold. They want to get it over with."  


  
"But-"  


  
"His mother's leaving for the US tomorrow evening. She mentioned taking a few months away to stay with a friend to grieve. She's booked the bloody tickets; it's organised, alright? I'm sorry," he continued, raising his voice to speak over a protest before Dom had found the breath to voice it, "but this is it. I didn't wake you up until now. You've had about two hours with him here," he said, like he'd done the man a favour.  


  
"I want to be there," Dom told him. He was sure he didn't feel as strong as he sounded. "I want to be in the room when it happens."  


  
Evan gritted yellow teeth.  


  
"Dominic. How long have you known him?"  


  
"A... week?"  


  
"Right. And how old is he?"  


  
"Twenty three."  


  
"Okay." He rubbed his forehead. "These people, his _proper_ loved ones, they've known him since he was a baby. This - right here, today - is a mother outliving her son, and siblings saying goodbye to the child they played with when they were younger. This is going to be one of the most tragic moments they ever experience. I know you love him, and I'm sorry - I _really_ am - but you _can't_ interfere."  


  
Dominic nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat. "I didn't say interfere. I just said I wanted to be there."  


  
"Fine," Evan grunted, turning away. "I'll be there to switch things off, anyway, so I'll be keeping an eye on you. If they tell you to leave, though, you really must do as they say."  


  
"Okay," he said weakly, looking back at Matthew's lifeless face.   


  
"I'm going to bring them up," the other man told him, heading for the door. "You've got a minute to say goodbye on your own, if you like."  


  
With that, he was alone.  


  
Dominic wasn't sure where to stand. He didn't seem to want to walk closer to Matt for fear of over emotion at such a crucial point, but couldn't bring himself to step away, either. And he really did feel the urge to move - standing still wasn't an option. He didn't know it, but his heartbeat was racing at almost exactly double the pace of the heart monitor's beeping. As he heard a group of footsteps approaching down the hard white corridors, he found himself near the wall, to the side of the room, where his swivel chair sat. He trailed his fingertips over the computer keyboard once more before four people entered the room.  


  
One had to be Matthew's mother. She looked pale. She looked like everything he could imagine a mourning mother was expected to look, he thought, but he still felt a stab of bitterness towards her.  


  
_You've known him all his life, and you didn't visit until you'd decided it was time for him to die,_ he thought.  


  
The other two were brother and sister. He was sure both siblings were older, but their appearances didn't reflect that. Stress could probably be held accountable for the dark circles around the brother's eyes, but his face held a strangely youthful vigour. The sister's grief was masked with make up.  


  
Evan walked in behind them, staying quiet. Respectful. He _did_ know how to do his job with the highest degree of professionalism. He guided Matthew's mother to sit in the chair beside his head. Her hand instantly found his, just as it always had. Crossing the road. Pulling him close in a busy market; making sure he couldn't wander off and get distracted amongst the forest of brightly coloured legs. Comforting him while she pulled out a splinter in his foot.  


  
Her head hung, and the tendons stuck out of her skin in the way they only do when a person tries to hold themselves together physically, with tissue and muscles, because it's the only way left to them.  


  
"Are you a doctor?"  


  
Dominic tore his eyes from the scene to regard Matthew's sister, who had turned to face him. She was remarkably composed, curiosity rather than accusation written over her features. He gave her a small smile.  


  
"No, I was his therapist for the coma communication research project."  


  
"Oh," she smiled. He read cynicism in the corners of her lips. "And how did that go?"  


  
"Successfully," he replied.  


  
"What does he say?"  


  
He smiled sadly. "He says he's sorry for nicking all your makeup when he was fourteen. He says he was experimenting."  


  
Her smile suddenly glowed with genuine warmth and spread into a grin, but it was filled with pain. She turned away, and Dom heard a choked sob before Matt's brother put an arm around her shoulders.  


  
"Did he apologise about my fish as well?" the brother asked, looking over his shoulder to address Dominic. "He thinks no one knows about that fish. Christ, he always was a shit liar."  


  
"The Fairy Liquid fish?" Dom grinned, his heart aching. "Yeah. He told me you thought the cat had dragged it off to the bird bath."  


  
"The cat was _dead_ at that point," his sister spluttered, bursting into delirious giggles through her tears.   


  
"It was run over by a fucking JCB," Matt's brother snorted, rubbing his eyes and turning so they faced Dom properly. "It was like a cat pancake. We just didn't tell him in case he got upset."  


  
They were good people, Dominic realised, his heart breaking. People he could have happily visited, or invited, or had Christmas dinner with as family. He glanced between them to where Matthew lay, and clenched his jaw.  


  
This was worth fighting harder for.  


  
"He isn't dying, you know," he said in a low voice, praying that Evan couldn't hear over the sister's sniffling. "I think he's going to live."  


  
The sound of his voice didn't alert his manager. The absence of noise that followed it did, though. The siblings stared at Dom with their eyes wide. He both noticed and ignored the same glorious blue.   


  
"What?" Matt's sister whispered shakily. Evan's eyes snapped up, throwing Dominic a warning glance.   


  
"I've been studying his brain for some time now," he said, speaking quickly and trying his best not to sound desperate, "and the only reason you've been advised to take him off life support is a risk of brain damage. His brain is completely healthy, and he should wake up routinely if-"  


  
His words were cut off by Evan striding across the room and snatching his arm, dragging him towards the door. A second arm across his back created the illusion that he was being gently escorted out of the room, but the surge of pain in his bicep proved otherwise. Under too much pressure to resist without causing a scene, Dom followed his lead, pushed out of the door. It clicked shut behind them.  


  
"What the _fuck_ do you think you're _doing?!"_    


  
Flecks of spittle dashed his cheek, but Dominic held his ground. "I have to. He's _not_ brain damaged."  


  
"It's not your _fucking_ place to decide that," Evan seethed. "Remind me what extent of medical training you've had to qualify your right to make a claim like that?"  


  
Dom glanced sideways through the reinforced glass window in the door. Matthew's mother was looking up at her remaining children with a look of confusion on her face as they spoke intently to her from across the bed.  


  
" _None_ , Dominic. No training. Alright, fantastic, you've used Synapse - which, if you'll remember, is a previously untested prototype - but that means _nothing_. You see them?"  


  
Dom followed his outstretched finger to the family.   


  
"In their eyes, he's already dead. You know how I can tell? They haven't _once_ asked if he might live. I've switched off hundreds of life support machines in my time, and the families invariably fall into two categories: the ones with hope and the ones without it."  


  
"But-"  


  
"This family has no hope. They've _accepted_ their grief, and right now, to interrupt such an important moment in their lives with false hope is... poisonous," he finished, the last word spat out like it hurt to linger on his tongue. "Cruel. You're being cruel."  


  
Eyes prickling with unwelcome tears, Dom fought to think of something to say. He was interrupted by the door opening. Matt's sister.  


  
"What do you _mean,_ he might live?"  


  
Matthew's mother was staring expectantly between the two of them, her face marked with the parallel lines of tears. Taking the opportunity to step back into the ward, Dominic spoke up.  


  
"He's not brain damaged. There's no reason he shouldn't wake up. I'm asking that you give him more time."  


  
There were no windows for Evan to speak, but he didn't need them.  


  
"I've made an important choice today," she told him. "Please respect it."  


  
"Mum," the sister began, "it's not-"  


  
_"Please,"_ Dom asked, and he felt the emotions straining in his chest begin to leak as his eyes welled up with tears he couldn't suppress. "Just a little bit longer. I mean, maybe - maybe just another month! Maybe if he's not awake in a month, you could reconsider, but I really don't think it will be that long. He's-"  


  
"I'm sorry," she said, and there was a cutting edge to her voice that sent chills down his throat, "do I know you?"  


  
"I... I don't-"  


  
"Who are you? I mean, you seem to care an awful lot about him," she said, "but I don't think I recognise you as a friend I've met before."  


  
Matthew's brother stepped forward. "He's his therapist, mum. From the coma study."  


  
"We grew very close," Dom nodded, furiously wiping away a tear, "through the conversations and experiences that we had. We were together. Because of the research, I mean."  


  
The statement was met with cold suspicion and he began to panic. The room was suddenly very quiet, the silence punctuated only by Matthew's pulse, and his sister sniffling. Comprehension dawned in his mother's eyes. Her words were hissed. _"Get out,"_ she whispered, shaking with rage. "What _sick_ person spreads disgusting lies like that over a person's deathbed?"  


  
_"He's NOT DYING,"_ Dominic cried out desperately, losing all control, _"he's-"_  


  
"Switch it off," she sobbed, covering her face with her hands, "switch it off, _I don't want to hear it anymore-"_  


  
_"NO!"_ Dom pleaded, whirling around like he could block Evan from reaching the machines beside Matthew's bed. "I'll take him on. I'll do it, I'll take responsibility for him, pay the hospital, _anything,_ just-"  


  
Evan cut him off, his voice easily riding over Dominic's begging even though he spoke quietly. "Do you have _any_ idea what taking on a coma patient involves?"  


  
"I'll Google it," he blurted out.   


  
The room fell silent and he was instantly aware how ridiculous he sounded, but Matt's siblings were regarding him with something closer to respect than hostility.   


  
"I think we should give him a chance," the brother spoke up softly. "I'll fill in the paperwork necessary. If you can pay the medical fees," he told Dom, "you're welcome to keep him on life support. _More_ than welcome. We've just hit the point where there's not a lot left for us to spend on him."  


  
The last sentence seemed to be aimed at their mother, but Dominic wasn't sure if he was imagining the implications or not. Heart hammering in his chest, he nodded gratefully and let out a shaky breath.  


  
"Thankyou."  


  
He inclined his head, turning to his sister. "Take mum home. Make sure she's okay, stay with her until tomorrow and drive her to the airport, alright? America will do her good."  


  
The two left, leaving Matt's brother with Dominic and Evan, gesturing down the hall to the latter's office.   


  
"Shall we?"  


  
They followed him out of the ward, leaving Matthew in peaceful quiet as he blankly slept on beneath banks of lights and wires, blissfully unaware of the battle fought at his bedside.  



	11. Chapter 11

Morning rain glittered on the pavements and Dominic felt like the smoke trailing from his cigarette; frayed and lashed to frail, anxious ribbons by the wind. It fluttered between his fingers as he shivered, hunched on the stairs outside the front door to an unfamiliar block of flats. Five minutes to nine, and the inspector from the estate agent was almost due to arrive. 

  
It had been five days since the five hours spent in Evan's office. You never realise how long paperwork takes until you look up at the clock and realised that despite having spent most of your afternoon with a biro in your hand, you're barely halfway through the stack of paper on the desk. Some was for reading, and some was for writing, but you never knew how long each sheet would set you back. Sometimes it was as simple as contact details. Sometimes it was a question that required a phone call and a lengthy queue position number before a drawn out conversation with your bank. Sometimes it was a phrase in a condition that you didn't understand and needed extensive clarification on.  


  
It had been a painful afternoon.  


  
Matthew's brother - Simon - sped the process along wherever he could, simplifying his terms to cut down on complications. He made it clear that Dominic would take full control. Of course he and his sister would be available for advice or help whenever they were asked for it, but in general it was as though Matthew was being physically given to Dominic, all strings trailing along with him. Everything he owned, every financial requirement and every responsibility were part of the package. Simon had then run for his train to Heathrow, mentioning that his work often took him out of the country, leaving Dom across the desk from Evan to untangle the strings.  


  
Disconnected from Synapse, Matthew no longer required the constant emergency facilities that the hospital ward had provided him with as a precaution during experimentation. Evan had suggested moving him to a nursing home, where stable coma patients could be placed at a much lower cost than his current ward.  


  
"There's a facility in Islington," he'd said, pushing the stapled printout across the desk towards Dom. "Really good place. The staff are helpful, visiting hours are nice and flexible, and it's much closer to where you live than here."  


  
Dom nodded and flicked through the pages, the corner of his mouth tilting in a sarcastic smile as his eyes skimmed over a section on fees. "Not sure when exactly I'll be visiting, given the number of jobs I'll need to juggle, but alright."  


  
Evan leaned closer and gently pushed the papers in Dominic's hands down until they reached the table. " _Make_ time."  


  
A quirk of the lips, and Dom broke their eye contact to set his biro back onto the paper, filling out his phone number for the hundredth time. Evan turned to his computer and continued working. They sat in silence, only speaking in brief and vaguely uncomfortable exchanges related to the paperwork, until the stack on the desk had depleted to zero. Nothing. No more paper. It was getting on for four in the afternoon and he hadn't eaten since breakfast, but Dom was free to go. He said his goodbyes and was shown to the door, his backpack hoisted up on his shoulder. Evan held it open for him, but took his arm and held him back for a moment to make eye contact.  


  
"I'm serious, Dominic. Visit him. I think it might make a difference."  


  
Despite how drained he felt, interest kindled behind Dom's eyes. He paused and frowned. "How do you mean?"  


  
Evan shrugged. "Coma patients who are visited more often have more chance of waking up. It's not the company that does it - nurses and therapists don't make a difference - but loved ones can really help, I think. Especially partners."  


  
Dom tilted his head to one side. "But... how?"  


  
"Go look it up," Evan chuckled. "There are a lot of claims and a lot of different opinions. Seriously, we hardly know a thing about comas. We pretend to be experts but we misdiagnose all the time - it's not like there's any research to back this stuff up, but in my experience, company makes a difference. Sometimes I think they're shy." He shrugged again, a strange, small smile on his face. "It's like they're confused and scared, and a loved one being there to take care of them is just enough encouragement, you know?"  


  
Dom nodded wordlessly, shrugging his bag further up his shoulder.   


  
"Hearing is the last sense to go," Evan continued, though he let go of his arm, "and it's the first to come back. Sometimes a person can lie awake for weeks hearing everything around them, but unable to respond, so try talking. Talking is the most important thing."  


  
"I'll look it up," he smiled faintly, turning away. "Thankyou."  


  
"Good luck," the older man said from behind him, followed by a receding creak of the door and the soft click as it closed behind him.  


  
The first day had been spent transferring Matthew to the nursing facility, where Dom had visited once or twice - briefly, between job applications. He'd been nervous. It was strange, sitting by Matt's bedside, talking without response. There wasn't a lot to say. 'Hi, Matt. Your mum seems nice.' He'd left after his first cup of tea. Too painful to watch that lifeless face for any longer.  


  
He took another drag on his cigarette before chucking it in the direction of the nearest drain, shuffling uncomfortably on the steps and wrapping his jacket a little further around himself.   


  
A black company car with the estate agent's logo printed in vinyl on the front doors rounded the corner of the street. Wincing at the ache in his legs, Dominic stood up to watch it approach, his hands balled deep in his pockets as the woman inside climbed out and gave him a quick smile.  


  
"Dominic Howard?"  


  
He returned the smile, holding out his hand for her to shake. "Yep. That's me."  


  
She nodded and pulled out a key from a pocket in her shirt. "Hi, Dominic, I'm Rachel. It's flat fourteen, isn't it."  


  
It wasn't posed as a question, so he didn't bother to give an answer as she twisted the key in the door and pushed it open. The inside was bare, save for a shabby looking bicycle that had been propped up against a table that held stacks of mail. Flat fourteen's stack was overflowing, spilling backwards into the crack between the table and the wall, until the envelopes had formed a second, independent pile on the carpet. Beside the mail sat a bowl that had once contained assorted sweets, though all that remained now was a mess of faded wrappers.  


  
Dominic found that wherever he let his feet fall on the upward climb to flat fourteen, the carpet had worn through to a threadbare thatch that barely covered the floorboards below it. He scuffed his shoes against the thin carpet as though determined to contribute to the decay. The third floor came too soon, and discomfort settled over him as he found himself opposite a door marked with a battered, wooden number '14'. Or, more accurately, a battered, wooden number '4'. The '1' had apparently fallen off, leaving a faint mark against the paintwork that Matthew had haphazardly drawn over in a black marker pen.  


  
"That'll need to be replaced," Rachel told him, and he nodded with a strained smile.  


  
The door swung open smoothly into a small and dimly lit hallway, where the smell of rotting food hit them full in the face. Rachel flinched with her entire body, bringing one hand to cover her mouth.  


  
"And you'll need to-"  


  
"Yes, yeah," Dom grimaced, advancing into the hallway and stepping over a pile of shoes, "I'll make it smell less like something just died in it."  


  
"Glad to hear it."  


  
He felt a wave of nausea in his stomach that had nothing to do with the smell as he stepped into what was undoubtedly a living room. A small sofa in the corner was half covered with blankets, half covered with the remains of an ancient take away curry which was now growing its way across the cushions. A laptop sat on the floor, still open from whatever Matthew had been working on, but powered down. A few DVD cases were piled up beside it, open like books, and Dom could see that only one of them actually contained the right disc. Books with the pages folded in absence of a bookmark. A dead potted plant. Oyster card. A bin full of tissues. At least two jumpers draped over the backs of chairs. Countless mugs.  


  
"Maybe give it a fresh coat of paint, and air it out for a few days," Rachel advised, already making her way through the other tiny corridor to the kitchen. Dominic watched her back disappear behind the kitchen door before it instantly reversed into the living room again, her eyes wide. "And the kitchen. The kitchen just needs a... uh... a good clean."  


  
"Of course," Dom groaned, rubbing his forehead with one hand, "let's just assume a lot of airing out and cleaning, yeah?"  


  
She nodded, peering left and right through the doors to the bathroom and bedroom respectively. "That seems to be all you need to do; it's actually in quite good shape. Paint the living room, give the whole thing a clean - maybe a proper carpet cleaner - and make sure it's all aired out. I'll call you back in a few days with a quote."  


  
"Thanks," he nodded.   


  
"This is yours," she remembered, holding out the front door key. "If there's anything you need help with or advice on, you can call the office between nine and five on weekdays. Any... other questions?"  


  
He shook his head, willing her to leave. He knew it was going to be poisonous, the next few hours of wandering through Matt's apartment, but he needed to do it, and he needed it to be done alone. "That's all. Thanks very much."  


  
At the sound of the front door swinging closed and signalling her departure, he'd expected himself to instantly spring into a thorough exploration of the flat, but instead found himself rooted to the spot and gazing at his surroundings. He felt very lost.   


  
One hand extended slowly to the nearest jumper, which was draped over a chair. His fingers closed on the soft material, feeling the wool shift between them, and he bunched it up against his chest like a cuddle blanket. His feet moved, one in front of the other, and began a tentative path into the centre of the room with his eyes fixed on the bookshelves. Each of the rows of books propped up picture frames. Some included Matt, though most were full of strangers. Dominic recognised a drunken Simon, his arm around Matthew on a bench in a pub garden. Matt was pulling a giggly, disgusted face at his brother's affections, a pint of lager tilting dangerously in one wildly flailing hand. To the left of that, what looked like the entire Bellamy family was gathered on the bank of the Thames opposite the London Eye at New Year's Eve, squashed together amongst the pavement-bound crowd, kept warm with scarves and whisky. On the shelf above, a toddler was balanced precariously on Matt's shoulders, clinging to his head and shrieking with delight as he ran down a wheelchair ramp.  


  
There were a couple more picture frames hung against the walls, but they were landscapes rather than family photos. Dominic followed their trail into the corridor, passing scenes of city skylines and deserted motel swimming pools and the Northern Lights, until he looked to his right and found himself staring into Matthew's bedroom. Clutching the jumper tighter to his chest, he nudged the door all the way open with his toe and walked in.  


  
Dark blue bedsheets were crumpled up in a mess at the head of the bed to make room for a battered looking keyboard, which was propped up on his pillows in the middle of the mattress. Dominic waded through piles of clothing and sat on the edge of the bed, the jumper now closer to his face, and eyed the bedside table. There was one more photo standing up against the lamp - frameless and crinkling at the corners, but his favourite thus far. In the picture, Matthew lay passed out on the floor in his boxers, with four friends pulling faces around him. A moustache, goatee and monocle had been scribbled onto his unconscious face, as well as the phrase 'I'M A COCK-GOBBLING ASSHAT' across his stomach in what appeared to be either shaving foam or whipped cream. One of the friends appeared to be trying to lick the word 'ASSHAT' up, and someone had balanced a half-eaten slice of pizza on Matt's forehead. Someone called Tom had scribbled a note in biro on a pale patch of the photo. Dominic picked it up to read the scrawled handwriting.  


  
_'i order you to keep this forever as a constant reminder that you fucking fail at ring of fire_   


_i love you matt_

_you knobjangler'_

  
Dominic's giggle warped into a sob, causing a strange, confused choking noise in his throat. He set the photo down again and pulled the jumper in his hands up to cover his mouth, breathing in deeply, and Matthew's scent hit him in warm, gentle waves. Gasping into the fabric with surprise, he buried his face into it and inhaled.  


  
It was nothing like how Matt smelled in the hospital. There it was disinfectant and whatever washing powder they used for the same sheets as everyone else - this new scent was purely comforting and familiar, like the smell of a house often visited in childhood, and yet he had never smelled it before. The stench of mouldy food and a flat left untouched for months faded away as Dom let himself fall back into the pile of duvet, breathing Matt in, burrowing into his musty bedclothes and ignoring the scratch of crumbs as he did so.  


  
"I miss you," he whispered into them.   


  
His eyes closed and he felt the prickling of tears between his eyelashes.  


  
*  


  
Matthew ran towards the figure emerging from the portal, gasping happily, and threw himself into Dominic's arms as soon as he was close enough. They clashed together, grinning so hard that their faces ached, and Matt felt himself lifted slightly off the ground as Dom hoisted him up with his arms wound tightly around his waist.  


  
"I missed you," he giggled, pressing a long, soft kiss to the other man's lips.  


  
_I missed you more._   


  
"I missed you more," Dom replied, returning the kiss.  


  
Feet lowered to the ground, Matt gazed into warm, loving eyes that he knew well enough to recall to perfection. "Please don't leave me again," he asked, his voice rising at the end to form a question.  


  
_No. Never. Kisses. I promise, Matt. I'm never leaving. Never again._   


  
"No. Never." Dominic's eyes crinkled and he leaned in for a deeper kiss, cupping the back of his head and massaging his fingers through black, fluffy spikes. His lips broke away with a soft, slick sound to speak gently, his voice low with sincerity. "I promise, Matt. I'm never leaving. Never again."  


  
Matt's face flashed with sadness and he stared imploringly up into Dom's face, seeking imperfections that he prayed he'd never find. "...Dom?"  


  
_Yes? What is it?_   


  
"Yes? What is it?"  


  
A stab of grief ran through him and his hands faltered as they stroked the other man's back. "Dom, are you really here?"  


  
_Of course I'm here! Cuddle. Why wouldn't I be?_   


  
"Of course I'm here!" Dominic hushed him, pulling the tiny body against his and hugging it tightly. "Why wouldn't I be?"  


  
Matt wrenched away from the arms holding him, already noticing that the lips were too dark, and the hair was too light, and something was wrong with the nose.   


  
_Sadness. Come back._   


  
Dom's face fell, sorrow-stricken, and his arms raised a little to try and invite Matthew back, but the smaller man stepped back again, shaking his head.  


  
"You're all wrong," he whispered through trembling lips.  


  
_Hurt. Rejection, disbelief. How can you say that? Matthew, baby, what's wrong?_   


  
Flinching, Dominic struggled between reeling away from Matt's words and stumbling back towards him for comfort. "How can you _say_ that?" he breathed, his face contorting with hurt. "Matthew, baby, what's wrong?"  


  
"You're not _real_ ," Matt yelled, the word bouncing off the rock faces. "You're _never_ real, you're _always_ wrong, just _fuck off, Dom, FUCK OFF AND DIE-"_  


  
_Fall apart, nightmare. Alone. Always, always alone._   


  
Matthew let out a strangled yell and leapt forwards as Dominic's face began to melt, his head tilting back with the weight of slipping flesh, until eyes were sockets and soft lips were a harsh, jagged line of teeth in a skull. Sobbing and begging, he caught the disintegrating body as it slumped forward; long, shaking fingers slid in the thick chunks of flesh, trying to hold Dom's face back together even as the white of bone began to show through the film of red. Matt's wails of despair tore through the air around them as he held Dominic's skeleton, bent over his bloody ribcage, apologising and pleading all in the same breath.   


  
Bloodsoaked and trembling, he pulled away, turning his back on the corpse.   


  
They were never real.  



	12. Chapter 12

"I'm completely serious, she put one hand on her hip - proper sassy girl - and she was like, _'boy, don't you be rollin' them eyes at me_ '," Dom pouted, doing his best impression of aforementioned girl, "and so I just let her have the bloody parking space. Ended up five minutes late into the office, which counts as half an hour of docked pay now. Can't tell if that's because the boss is a dick or because he can't do basic maths, but either way, it meant I got twenty five minutes of playing Minesweeper with a clear conscience, so. You know." He gazed down at Matthew's sleeping face. "You know what they say about every cloud."

  
Matt lay blank and unresponsive, wrapped in the pale yellow blankets of the nursing home. They covered the tangle of wires, which gave the illusion of a slightly more natural sleep, but in the absence of the hospital's emergency equipment he often wore an oxygen mask as a precaution. It sighed and hissed slowly. Dominic lowered his eyes to look down at the limp hand held in his, squeezing the fingers gently.  


  
"Your flat's sold. The new tenants moved in this morning. I cleaned it all out; I hope you don't mind, it meant going through everything you owned. You own some weird shit, Matt. I had to put it all on eBay," he grinned. "Bit of a shame. There were so many cool old books and records and things, but it's not like I have a record player, so I didn't keep any. Kept all the old VHS tapes though. Not that I have a video player, but, I don't know, I wondered if any of them were recordings, you know? Programs you liked, or home videos from ages ago. I know my mum's still got a box of tapes up in the loft that were recorded when I was a kid, y'know, playing in the garden and dressing up and stuff. God, I fucking hope those tapes are full of you being a weird little twat, playing in the bath, dancing, really embarrassing stuff," he started giggling, squeezing Matt's hand, "I fucking swear, I will watch them over and over until you wake up. There you go. Like, incentive, right?"  


  
He let the smile slowly slide from his face. Even in the empty room, there was a strange, uncomfortable sense of embarrassment in laughing alone at something like that. Dom frowned and cleared his throat a little.  


  
"Oh, I nicked your creepy hentai collection too. Can't let something like that go to waste, can we."  


  
His lips pursed with amusement, and he mentally listed everything else he'd salvaged from Matthew's flat.  


  
"I also rescued your laptop, cos you probably kept a ton of stuff on there. I haven't opened it though, or turned it on, even. Maybe I will if you die, but I already feel way too nosy as it is. And I took all the family photos. Put those in a box. Except for that one of you with your dog at the beach - at least, I suppose it's your dog. That one's on my bedside table. I know, I know," he rolled his eyes, gazing at the floor, "it's awful, but I had to. I was going to put it back in the box with the others, but I like it being there too much to get rid of it. _Oh!_ And your keyboard, I wanted to keep that. You'll want it when you wake up. Your wallet, too, because wallets are useful. And you had, like, four completed tenth-coffee-free loyalty stamp cards in there. That must've taken some pretty serious dedication. Well done there."  


  
As he spoke, Dom's eyes followed the wavering flame of a scented candle that sat on the table beside him. It was only a little tealight, but it helped the place feel less like a hospital. And he'd heard things about how playing around with the environment's smell could help with awakening. The candle would change every time he visited, swapping around, providing as much variety as possible. Today it was sandalwood.  


  
"I took your bedsheets too, and a jumper," he said shortly.  


  
His lips tautened.  


  
"They don't smell of you anymore."  


  
Swallowing, he lowered his gaze and shifted on his chair. His fingers gently played with Matthew's, pressing their fingertips together in turn, one by one, idly exhausting every combination of index to middle, middle to middle, index to ring.  


  
"I hope you're okay in there," he said. "I know I say it every day, but you know. Maybe you can hear me today and you couldn't hear me yesterday. I... yeah. I just always tell you that I love you, and I miss you, and I hope you're alright. Mainly that I miss you, I suppose. Is that selfish?"  


  
There was a long pause while he let his eyes wander up and down between the folds of the covers as they fell over the thin form of Matthew's body. He awkwardly leaned down and lay his head against Matt's chest, his arms hugging as best as he could without lifting the tiny body from the bed, and felt a twinge of sadness at bones jutting out, even through the duvet. He had lost weight again. He was _always_ losing weight. A slow, steady heartbeat sounded through his chest and Dom concentrated on its strength, his fingers curling in the covers for comfort. After his back began to ache from its contorted position, bent over and twisted sideways, he winced and straightened.  


  
"What chapter are we on?" he asked the quiet room, leaning down and delving one arm into the rucksack at the foot of his chair. His fingers scrabbled until they found purchase on the cover of a book, which he pulled from beneath his jacket. "We did the bit where they looked for the beast on the mountain. And Jack was a right prick, but Jack's a right prick every chapter, so that doesn't narrow it down much." His fingers flickered past pages, scrolling past, his eyes snatching phrases from the paper to guess where they were.   


  
"Alright. Chapter eight. _Gift For The Darkness."_  


  
He coughed.  


  
_"Piggy looked up miserably from the dawn-pale beach to the dark mountain..."_   


  
*  


  
The red sky rolled overhead, flickering with cloud lightning that flashed violet in the reflections of glassy water. Matthew rubbed his cheek back and forth against the earth, letting the grass blades tickle at his skin, and gazed dully upward with half-lidded eyes. He lay splayed on his side, right on the edge of an island. One quick roll of his body and he'd tumble into the abyss below until the electrified clouds caught him or he imagined a jetpack. Jetpacks _were_ fun, he thought, lazily raising an eyebrow and peering off the edge of the island.  


  
A shiver ran over his skin as fingers gently skimmed his stomach. Dominic lay behind him, shifting in his sleep, and Matt felt solid arms close around him from behind. The embrace was tender and he wriggled into it happily, blanking his skepticism enough to draw pleasure from the burning slip of skin on skin.   


  
Sometimes it was like this. It only worked when he faced the other way, refusing to look at Dom's face - and the denial never lasted long - but it was a comfort of sorts to imagine Dominic's body behind him when he rested.  


  
The pile of dead bodies on the portal island had grown to a point until Matthew realised each new death was a self-induced torture that wasn't worth enduring, no matter how much resentment he held. The flash of hurt that came every time he was reminded that Dominic was never going to return to him no longer blinded him with rage. Sometimes he cried, but he never lashed out; he merely clinged on, apologising, never looking the illusion in the eye. Such illusions are the best maintained purely because the audience doesn't have the will to deconstruct them.  


  
He missed the other man's voice more than anything. That was another thing he couldn't imagine. It had begun to sound wrong, as remembered voices always do when they aren't heard for months at a time.   


  
And his face. On occasion, Matt challenged himself, daring his eyes to meet Dom's, and he would stare over that unblinking, blank face, correcting angles and lines and pores and eyelashes with his mind. He could never fix it. Sometimes the frustration of being unable to construct the perfect Dominic overcame him and he would shove the other man off the nearest bridge, only to conjure up another one and try again, all the while wondering what the fuck he was doing with himself. Most of the time, he couldn't even remember basic facial features, let alone detail. At this point he'd spent far longer trying to remember Dom's face than he'd ever spent looking at it.  


  
Sometimes, he wondered if Dominic had ever actually existed in the first place.  


  
*  


  
There was a pub down the road from Dom's flat. Certainly not a particularly nice one, but that wasn't the point of a pub like that. He caught himself giving it long looks every evening as he arrived home from his first job for a shower and a sandwich before heading out again for his second job, already exhausted and with shadows sinking under his eyes.  


  
The pub sat beside the line of cars held by the last set of traffic lights in his commute, giving him plenty of time to inspect the glittering, swaying, chatting crowd that spilled onto the pavement outside. Conversation and laughter drifted through the air along with the smoke from their cigarettes. With each passing day, Dominic gazed with a touch more loneliness; a touch more longing, and a touch less resolve.   


  
He'd step into the shower each night and let the hot water stream down his skin - relishing it in the full knowledge that sooner or later it would be shut off - and he'd rest his head against the tiles and think about those shifting figures. Pleasure came far more easily against the backdrop of the nameless, faceless bodies he'd watched minutes ago; thinking of Matthew had begun to hurt, and he couldn't afford toxic thoughts so close to the beginning of his supermarket shift.  


  
It was on a Tuesday evening that he pulled up at the traffic lights and realised, with a start, that two months had passed since he had begun to pay for Matthew's medical fees.   


  
Two months of little food, little sleep, and next to no free time besides that spent sitting at his bedside.  


  
One thousand, two hundred and fifty pounds a day.  


  
Eyes trailed up a girl's thigh and curiosity flared in his brain. Maybe girls would be easier. Less to remind him of Matt.  


  
One thousand, two hundred and fifty pounds multiplied by sixty two. About eighty thousand, he thought to himself.  


  
Dom wondered what else he could have bought with eighty thousand pounds.  


  
A car horn behind him blared, shocking him back to earth and staring into the harsh face of a green light. Swallowing, he waved a hurried apology to the car behind him and kicked it into gear for the last hundred yards to his parking space around the back of the Tesco's. It was only when he closed his front door behind him that he realised he'd seriously but briefly considered picking up a girl from the pub. Bitterness had washed through him at the thought of how much money Matthew's life was costing him; the memory of it sent sick, disgusted waves rolling in his stomach.   


  
Stumbling upstairs, he felt a numbness in his fingers as they trailed up the banister. His breath was ragged and anxious. Spots of light exploded in front of his eyes after the climb and he fell to his knees a couple of feet before reaching the mattress that served as his bed, staggering until he could lean his head against the dark blue duvet. Nausea and dizziness overcame him.   


  
Too much stress, too much hurt, and he knew his body had reached its limits. Dominic was briefly aware of crawling, the carpet burning his palms, and then the bedroom floor gave way to bathroom tiles, and then he was clinging to the edge of the toilet. His whole frame convulsed violently and he retched, vomiting. Bile was the only thing his stomach had to throw up, and he shut his eyes tight.  


  
Spitting the last strings into the toilet bowl, he sat back and hauled himself to his feet with trembling fingers. Dom clutched at the sink and rinsed his mouth out before staring at the pale, ashen face in the mirror. His eyes were frightened and bloodshot. Tears clung to his eyelashes from the force of throwing up, and he brushed them away with his knuckles.  


  
"You look fucking awful," he croaked, smirking sadly at how weak the words were when they came out. They stung his throat.  


  
At least the state of his voice meant that no suspicion whatsoever was aroused ten minutes later, as he choked down the phone that he would be unable to make it into work for that night's shift at the supermarket. It was the first time he'd called in sick for either of his jobs. Feeling too sick to eat, he moved instantly for the stairs and found himself slamming the front door behind himself, car keys in hand, dizziness flaring at the edges of his vision again.   


  
*  


  
"I'm going to make this quick," Dom told Matthew's sleeping face. He ran his thumb over the smaller man's cheekbone again and again, trying not to think about how it stuck out from his face more than ever before. "I need to make this quick, and then I'm just going to leave.  


  
"I'm not sure how much longer I can do this, babe. I love you more than you will ever know, but this is... this is difficult. I don't think I really own anything that I can sell anymore," he shrugged, "and I'm getting pretty ill from not having enough food, and not turning the heating on, and not using hot water. I've tried loans and I've tried to borrow, I promise - I asked your brother and sister the other week and everything - but there's literally nothing left. I can't even pay my rent and I don't know what to do if I lose the flat.  


  
"You're like a really, really expensive pet," he giggled, wiping away tears quickly, ashamedly, "like, the most awkward, difficult pet ever. And I just... I don't think I can keep you anymore.  


  
"I'm going to keep going for just as long as I can, but I don't think that'll be more than a few days. I don't know if there's even any sense in asking, but I'm asking anyway - I'm _begging,_ " he whispered, and his voice cracked on the word, "I am _begging_ you to wake up in the next couple of days. Just to show a sign that you're alive in there. Please, _please_ wake up."  


  
He leaned down and pressed one kiss to his forehead before pulling away. Matthew heard a mumbled 'I love you,' before Dom shrugged on his jacket and left the room in tears.  


 


	13. Chapter 13

  
Christopher Wolstenholme stared at the two files on his desktop, trying to remember which one he'd just extracted from an email and which one had been there for the last three months, clogging up the interface. He was about to give up and open one to check its contents when there was a gurgling noise from behind him.

  
"Not now, Alfie," he muttered, glancing behind him. His son was flopped over in a wheelchair, limbs splayed out at all angles.  


  
"Urrrghh," Alfie groaned, giggling, his eyes rolling back into his head. "No, you have to fix me, I'm in a coma. Urrrgghhhh."  


  
Behind him, his younger sister was creeping up with a polystyrene cup of water from the dispenser. "Coma medicine!" she sang, tilting the cup dangerously over Alfie's head.  


  
Chris rubbed his eyes and stood up, hauling his son out of the chair and setting him down on the floor.  


  
"No, guys, the Coma Game is only for home, remember? Ava-Jo, put that down or drink it. Alf, don't touch anything else, especially not wheelchairs. I'll be _two_ minutes, and then we can go home."  


  
"What're you doing?"   


  
"Stuff," he replied, letting Ava-Jo climb into his lap. "Computer stuff. I just need to put this in an email, and we can go."  


  
"If you're a nurse," Alfie asked, "does that mean you're secretly a lady?"  


  
"If it's an email," Ava-Jo asked, slurping on her water and spilling it down her chin, "why couldn't you do it on the home computer?"  


  
"Dad's secretly a lady," Alfie giggled as he picked up a set of crutches from behind the door. "Can I touch these?"  


  
"Because the clinic computer is where my work things go," Chris replied blankly, frowning at a file that he'd ingeniously named 'akldjfgd.doc'.   


  
"You didn't say no and it's been three seconds, that means I can touch them," Alfie decided. He slid his arms into place and raised the crutches, pointing them at his father and sister. _"EX-TER-MIN-ATE! EX-TER-MIN-"_  


  
"But I thought the internet went everywhere?" Ava-Jo asked thoughtfully, dipping her fingertip into her cup of water and drawing a line of liquid dots along the surface of Chris' desk.  


  
"Alfie, put the-"  


  
"I'm not Alfie. I'm Dalek Caan, and I just exploded your head."   


  
_"Alright!"_ Chris gave up, logging out and extricating Dalek Caan from his crutches. Herding both children out of his office, he half-pushed them into the corridor. "I'll do it tomorrow morning. _Left,_ Alfie. We're turning left."  


  
Alfie frowned. "No, dad, we parked the car down here. In the car park."  


  
"Par cark," Ava-Jo giggled to no-one in particular.  


  
"I know where the bloody car is," Chris groaned, setting off down the left hand corridor, "but I need to go and check on one of my-"  


  
"Bloody?"  


  
_"Bloody?"_ Alfie's glee could not be restrained.  


  
_"Dad said bloody,"_ Ava-Jo snickered, clutching at her brother's shoulder. "That means it's allowed now!"  


  
Sighing amid the chorus of 'bloody's that were now ringing down the clinic's corridor and alerting more than a couple of odd looks from staff and patients alike, Chris made his way to room 731 and pushed through the door. It was much quieter in here - the kids knew to wait outside.  


  
After a brief check of the patient's vital signs and automatically recorded progress throughout the day, he pulled the sheets down to the figure's waist and tilted the limp body slightly, checking there were no sores or signs of dry skin on his back. Nothing. Completely fine. Chris began to gently lay him back down.  


  
_"THAT'S NOT MY FOOT!"_   


  
Chris jumped a foot in the air, shouting with shock, leaping backward from the coma patient that had definitely, _definitely_ just screamed in his face. Said patient was now limp again, eyes peaceful and closed, the only sign of his outburst manifesting itself in an accelerated beeping of his heart monitor.  


  
Eyes wide, Chris crept back to his bedside, checking over the patient to make sure none of the wires or tubes had come unstuck during the sudden movement.   


  
"Dad?"  


  
He whirled around to see Ava-Jo hanging off the door handle, swinging it back and forth as she swayed. "Yeah?"  


  
"Are we go-oing?"  


  
"I'm gonna be a bit longer," he said, glancing back. "Mum will have to pick you up. I'll let you and Alf into my office and you can have a play on the computer, yeah?"  


  
Her face slid to disappointment and then lit back up again at the mention of the computer. They made their way back down the corridor and into Chris' office, where he logged them into his account and then picked up the phone on the desk. He sat back onto its surface, playing with the phone cord as he waited for the office downstairs to pick up.  


  
"Hi, it's Chris here. Yep. Yes, everything's fine. I was just checking up on the guy in 731 and he was... uh... well, he was pretty lively, yeah. Yes. He shouted and kind of jerked upright. Uh huh, he's back down, but definitely waking up."  


  
Alfie lolled back in his chair, giving his dad a series of rapid fire thumbs ups. Chris grinned back, leaning over to return the gesture and press their thumbs together in a single-digit high five.  


  
"Sure, I have the contact details. I'll let them know, I'll call now. I know, lucky me," he laughed, looking up at the clock and wincing at the prospect of an unexpected night shift. "It'll be a caffeinated one. I'll see you later, John."  


  
*  


  
Several times during the last couple of months, Dominic had considered selling the phone. No one ever called him, and it seemed to go against his instinct to leave it. He was selling everything else. The phone sitting on the kitchen counter felt like something hadn't been taken care of, like the one piece of clutter in an otherwise bare house.  


  
Standing on the bath mat outside the shower, shivering and huddled in a towel, he stared at himself in the mirror for a good five seconds before his brain registered that the ringing noise from through the open bathroom door was, indeed, the phone. His hair was plastered to his forehead and icy droplets kept sliding down his face.  


  
_Yep,_ he frowned at himself, the reflection crystal clear due to the lack of steam produced by his freezing shower, _it's been a while since I last heard that noise._  


  
Eyes widening, he turned on his heel and dashed down the stairs, clutching his towel around himself as he picked up the receiver.  


  
"Hello? Hi?"  


  
"Dominic Howard?"  


  
"Yep?" His heart raced.  


  
"It's Matthew Bellamy's nurse from the clinic, Chris Wolstenholme. Is this a good time to talk?"  


  
He put out one hand against the small countertop fridge to hold himself steady, still shaking from cold, nodding frantically before remembering that phones don't work like that.  


  


"Yeah, yeah, now's definitely a good time," he replied.

  
"Perfect." Chris leaned across the desk, slapping Alfie's hands away from a cactus plant that lived beside his computer.  


  
"Is it bad news?" Dom asked, paling.  


  
"No, not bad news at all!" he smiled. "No, he's waking up. He's in the first stages of waking up."  


  
The flood of emotion that spread through Dominic's chest left him speechless. His fingers slid from the fridge to put his hand over his mouth and he let out a burst of air that almost felt like disbelief.   


  
"Are you..." he pulled himself together, trying to keep his voice level, "are you sure?"  


  
"Yep," Chris answered, unable to keep from grinning at the obvious joy in the other man's voice. "He kind of lurched upright and shouted at me and then he fell right back to sleep. Scared the life out of me, actually."  


  
"I'll come straight down," Dom told him, looking at the clock and suddenly remembering he was wearing a towel. "I can be there in... I don't know... forty five minutes? Maybe half an hour, if I run?"  


  
"I've got to warn you," came the response, "it's gonna be a long, slow process. He's not just going to wake up - there's a lot of therapy involved. Just those ten seconds must have exhausted him. I don't know if-"  


  
"I know, I know," Dominic insisted, running his hand through his damp hair and letting out a shaky breath, "I understand all of that. I just want to see him."  


  
"I'm just saying, don't expect any changes." Chris replied patiently. _They never listen._ "I'm just checking that you realise he won't be any more responsive than any other time you visited him."  


  
"I still want to see him," Dom repeated firmly. He could hear the grin down the phone.  


  
"I thought so. If you like, we can discuss some kind of a treatment plan for the future while you're here?"  


  
"That sounds good. I'll see you later. Maybe in an hour?"  


  
Chris nodded. "Okay. See you then, Dominic."  


  
Dom set the receiver down in its cradle and paused before he slowly slumped sideways, leaning his forehead against the fridge door. His hands splayed on the counter for support; he felt his breath misting warmly against the cold plastic in front of his face. Relief consumed him and kept threatening to send tears streaming down his cheeks, but they never came. Just wave after wave of shocked, happy giggles.  


  
*  


  
Chris shook his hand before leading him through the entrance hall and up several flights of stairs. The building around him underwent a strange transition as he climbed; on about the fourth or fifth step, the wallpaper suddenly peeled away to cream-painted plaster, and the framed paintings on the walls switched to notices about using the disinfectant dispensers before passing through the double doors to the clinic above. It was as though two very different buildings - a warmly welcoming reception and a typically sterile hospital - had been haphazardly sellotaped together somewhere between the two landings. Dominic half expected that if you took a hammer to the walls where paper met paint, you'd find them filled with staples.  


  
"I take it you want to see Matthew straight away?" Chris asked, slowing down at they reached a crossroads in the corridor.  


  
Dom nodded. "If that's okay."  


  
"Course. Whenever you're ready, you want to take a left, and then past a load of vending machines, and then the left again. My office is right in front of you if you want to have a chat about what's likely to happen over the next couple of months?"  


  
"I'd like that, yeah," he agreed, smiling quickly at the other man as their paths split and he found himself retracing steps he knew all too well through the clinic to room 731. The door was slightly ajar as he approached it, suddenly as nervous as he'd been in the car.  


  
He hadn't really been expecting Matthew to be in any state other than the one he'd been in for the last couple of months, but there was an inevitable flicker of disappointment in his chest at the sight of his face just as lifeless and pale as ever.   


  
Dominic sat down in the chair, leaning over Matt's face and gently brushing a stray bit of hair away from his forehead. It had been a while since they'd cut his hair, and it just reached his eyelashes. With interest, he noticed that Matt's eyes were cracked ever so slightly open. By no means wide enough to actually see him, but merely to allow faint, vague light to filter through long, dark eyelashes. His oxygen mask had been taken off; a faint line around his cheek showed where it had left an impression. Dom's fingers instantly traced the mark, thumbing the soft skin before his hand settled, cupping Matthew's face and stroking along the jutting line of his cheekbone.  


  
"Hey," he whispered, leaning over so that those eyes would at least register the change of light. Maybe if he was awake in there, Matt would be able to make out a dark, blurred image of his face.  


  
"I heard you shouted at your nurse," he said softly, lips twitching into a smile. His free hand moved to take Matthew's, which easily slid to its home in his palm. "You dick. I bet he fucking shat himself."  


  
He leant over a little further, carefully moving amongst the tangled tubes so that their joined hands lay on Matthew's chest.  


  
"I can't believe you're waking up," he murmured. "I mean, I always told myself you'd come back, but it's been hard to convince myself lately. It's difficult, I'm trying not to get excited, but I can't wait to see you. I mean, to actually talk to you, and see your eyes, and see you smile. And eat with you, and sleep next to you. You'll be kept here for a while, but I'll try and stay with you whenever I can. I'm going to really, really look after you, Matt, I can't wait to take care of you. It's not gonna be easy, but we're going to manage this together, okay?"  


  
Cradling Matthew's head, he bent down and pressed a soft, loving kiss to his forehead.  


  
"I miss you," he spoke gently, "and I love you, and I'll be back soon. This is just a quick visit to say hi, really. I'm going to go and talk to your nurse, Chris, about keeping you safe, okay? And then I'm going home to sleep, so that I can work tomorrow, because we still need just a little bit more money while you wake up. I'd stay all night if I could but I really can't. Soon, though, yeah?"  


  
He slid his hands away and stood up. In the second before walking away he hesitated, speaking once more on the off-chance that Matthew hadn't heard anything he'd just said, but was aware now. Just in case.  


  
"I love you, Matthew," he repeated. Shock jolted through him as he swore he saw those eyelashes flicker, but after a minute of silent staring then there were no other signs of life. Sighing quietly, he backed away and slipped through the door, turning left towards Chris' office.  


  
Matthew continued to gaze at the ceiling tile, staring past the space that the other man's head had occupied moments ago. He watched the pale plasterboard swirl slightly with the flow of moisture across the surface of his eyeball, aware of tiny dots of proteins as they floated past his retina, evading focus. He still found himself incapable of moving his eyeball, or even shortening or lengthening his focus. This meant that the ceiling constantly hung out of reach, blurred and blank, which would have annoyed him, but it was darkened by his half-closed eyelashes as it was. They held an interesting texture; orbs of refracted light caught between his eyelids. Thick, harshly bright lines spiked out from the ceiling lamp. He liked to watch their angle against his eyelashes change as the liquid in his eye shifted from hour to hour.  


  
When this is the only world one knows, one quickly learns to find entertainment in it.  


  
It was impossible to even judge the passage of time, so he didn't bother wondering if he'd been lying here for minutes or weeks. Sometimes he was aware of slipping into consciousness, and sometimes the ceiling tiles disappeared. Just a quiet, numb cycle of floating in existence and then floating back away from it again.   


  
There was a bleeping noise and he counted along with it for a while, but forgot what came after twenty. Instead, he labelled the first twenty bleeps as twenty (one), and the second twenty bleeps as twenty (two), and the third as twenty (three). Then he reached twenty (twenty) bleeps and wasn't sure what to do with himself, so he went back to watching his eyelashes.  


  
Games like that had helped keep him from panicking. Sometimes he had tried to scream out for help, but nothing had happened. He'd wondered what his name was, and he'd wondered how old he was, and he'd wondered if he was male or female. When the nurse came in, he had inwardly pleaded for his questions to be somehow answered, either by being directly informed, or as an overheard snippet of conversation.  


  
He was a baby born into an alien world, staring through alien eyes, and suddenly he had understood why babies spent most of their time crying so hard.  


  
Hearing the door to his ward click shut, he felt a warm, hopeful glow spreading through his chest, waves of emotion crashing in his head that sent the ceiling warping as tears welled in the corners of his eyes.   


  
He was Matthew.  


  
He had a name, and he felt the first sense of identity blossom through his clouded mind. Now he was a person, and he was in a bed, and the other man said he was going to get better. Whatever he was waking from and whatever he was waking into didn't matter. The point was that he was healing, and he would wake. He was safe and cared for and so very, very loved. His heart ached with joy at the thought and the first tear spilled over the corner of his left eye, trickling sideways and into his hair.  


  
_I'm a Matthew,_ he thought to himself again, the sound of a giggle running through his head before he tumbled back out of consciousness.  


 


	14. Chapter 14

The new situation slid into place until Dominic could easily name it as normality, though he still felt a kick of excitement every time something new happened. He quickly became used to walking into Matthew's ward to find him with his eyes blankly fixed on the ceiling, and then to see them snap down to follow his path around the room before he sat down. He would take the smaller man's hand and squeeze it gently, and usually felt a squeeze in return. The first time he'd felt it, his heart had leapt in his chest. Matt would then watch his face while he spoke. That blue stare pierced like shards of glass - his eyes were constantly wide, as though determined to take in as much of the world around him as possible, anxious of missing a single detail. For all the world, it resembled the stare of a newborn child.

  
Dom would speak to Matthew about his day at work. He'd cut back down to one job, no longer under the same financial pressure, and had opted to stay with the supermarket as the shifts were more flexible. Occasionally, Matt would squeeze his hand at moments where - had it been a normal conversation - he might have laughed, or responded with speech. It was a strange exchange, but comforting regardless.  


  
Chris sometimes sat with them by the free side of the bed, and Matt's tiny neck would strain as he struggled to turn his head to either side whenever the speaker switched. The simple movements exhausted him, but he managed to stay conscious for a few more minutes with every day that passed.  


  
Alone with him again, Dom stroked the smaller man's hand in what he hoped was an encouraging gesture.  


  
"Eugh," Matt managed.  


  
"Muh," Dom told him again, over-exaggerating the syllable, smacking his lips together to make the sound. " _Muh._ Matthew."  


  
"Muh," he repeated, feeling a rush of accomplishment as Dom's face split into an encouraging smile. "Mah."  


  
"Ma _-tthew. Thew."_  


  
"Fegh. Foo."  


  
Dominic opened his mouth to show his tongue flicking at the roof of his mouth. _"Thew."_  


  
Eyes widening in comprehension, Matthew tried again. "Th... thew."  


  
"Yes! Try the whole word? Matthew?"  


  
"M...agh. Few." He paused, and would have frowned if his facial muscles had permitted it. "Mah."  


  
"All as one noise, Matt, remember?"  


  
"Mah. Few."  


  
_"Thew."_   


  
Matt slowly slid the tip of his tongue out and blew a tiny, pathetic raspberry. It was the one noise that he seemed completely confident with making. Dominic smiled down at him, quickly noticing that the lack of enthusiasm was due to exhaustion, and lay a gentle kiss to his cheek.   


  
"You've done really well today," he whispered in the second before the smaller man's eyelids drooped dangerously. "Night night, Matt."  


  
Dom stretched out, hearing his knees click as he stood up. Contrary to the past, he didn't feel the same need to watch over Matthew while he slept, and instantly wandered down the corridors to tap at the window set into Chris' office door. He was waved in, the hand beckoning him instantly reaching out to flick the kettle on.   


  
"How was he?" Chris asked. Dominic settled in the chair next to him, now familiar enough not to bother shaking the other man's hand. It had been a couple of weeks since they had first met, and he already had his own mug in the office. Chris dropped a teabag into it.  


  
"He's doing really well," he replied, nodding his head to one side. "Much better than last week."  


  
He remembered that the first time Matthew had managed to make a noise it had been a terrible, haunted moan of broken vocal chords. Feeling the hairs on the back of his neck shiver and rise, Dominic had leaned in, praising and encouraging while he felt sick inside. The rattling groan echoed in his dreams that night; it was the first genuine utterance he'd heard Matt make, and it had rasped from his throat and past the tube still in his mouth like the last breaths from dying lungs. Since then, he had mastered most syllables with the help of a speech therapist, and was starting to manage stringing them together into recognisable words again.   


  
"Still not managing his name?"  


  
"Nope. It's the 'th'," Dom answered, screwing his face up at the syllable. "I mean, not that he was ever particularly well-spoken in the first place." He shrugged and took the mug of tea that was offered to him. "I'm sure he'll get the hang of it."  


  
Chris nodded thoughtfully, sipping on his tea. "I'm not worried about his speech, I'm really not. He's doing really well at the kind of physical stuff, you know? Like reflexes and reactions and muscle control. And he's been having mood swings, which is a good sign. Getting a bit worried about his memory, though."  


  
"Yeah?"  


  
"Mmm, he should really have remembered more by now. I'm not going to lie, in any other patient then I'd assume there'd been pretty significant loss of memory, but he had that research, so..." he tilted his hand from side to side, "...who knows."  


  
Dom shrugged, though he felt a twinge of nervousness. "Maybe."  


  
"How about his family?" Chris asked, head tilted. "Someone he's known all his life might jog his memory, you know?"  


  
"His mum decided to stay in America," he answered with a half shrug. "And his brother's a pain in the arse to contact. And I - oh!" he stopped, eyes shooting open. "Oh! I've got... I've got some photos?"  


  
"Photos of the family?"  


  
"Yeah, with him! All pictures he used to have around his flat."  


  
"Bring them in!" Chris nodded enthusiastically. "Far as I've noticed, people's minds just need a good kick, and then everything starts rushing back to them by itself."  


  
It was for this reason that Dominic sat by the side of Matthew's bed with a folder of photographs at his side. He clutched the file nervously. His fingers would have been crossed if he'd believed in luck.  


  
"D'you know this one?" he smiled hesitantly, holding out the first photo. It was the one of Matt and his dog; the one that had been sitting on his bedside table for the last couple of months. Matthew's eyes focused and unfocused as he brought the picture into view.  


  
"Nah," he shook his head slowly before slumping into the pillows. "Me," he said, pointing at himself. His words slurred awkwardly. "Sea at Rock, in Cornwall."  


  
"Your dog though?" Dom asked. Matt reached out and snatched the photo away, though his arms instantly fell back to lay on his chest when his hands proved too heavy for his strength.   


  
"Yeah."  


  
"He or she?"  


  
"See," Matt replied. He had difficulty with 'sh's.  


  
"But no name?"  


  
Matthew's eyes filled with sadness and he slowly shook his head, letting go of the photo and letting it topple over, face down. It was replaced in the pile, behind the others.  


  
"This guy? The guy with you, here, at the pub?"  


  
For a moment, Matt stared blankly at the new photo, but then his eyes shot open, wide and alert, and his fingers darted out to grab the picture closer.   


  
"Simon," he whispered urgently, like he was trying to talk to his brother through the paper. "Simon?"  


  
"That's Simon," Dom agreed, his pulse quickening with hope. "You remember Simon?"  


  
Matt looked at him like he was mental. "Course. It's Simon."  


  
"Can you tell me about him?"  


  
His eyelids slid closed and his brow furrowed with thought - a rare expression - and for a moment, Dominic was scared that it would tire him too quickly. He was just about to lean over and reassure him when Matthew began speaking again.  


  
"Dunno. Just Simon. Two years older." His words were stretched apart between deep breaths, sucked in at irregular intervals. "Day at a pub, here. I had pie. Fucking tasty. I miss food."  


  
"You miss food?"  


  
Matthew's head inclined in the slightest of nods and he raised a twig-like arm to indicate his stomach, which still held the feeding tube. "Boring. Tube tastes like tube."  


  
Dom stroked his hand sadly, feeling his thumb bump over the ridges of Matt's knuckles. He tried to imagine that strange, empty taste you get in your mouth when you're ill and don't eat for a couple of days, and the frustration that came with wanting to force something down _just_ so that your tongue didn't taste like shit, and then he tried to mentally multiply that sensation by almost seven months.  


  
"What food do you want?" he asked. "You know, if you could have any, right now."  


  
"I don't," he mumbled. "Not normally. Not always." Deep breath. "Just saw it in the photo and now I want chips."  


  
"Soon," Dom squeezed his hand, and felt a little squeeze back. "We'll get you back on food, or, y'know, we'll have a go in the next few days, Chris says."  


  
"They took the mouth tube out," Matt said happily, opening his mouth wide. He stuck his tongue out and wiggled it around in demonstration.   


  
"Bet that thing tasted like shit."  


  
"Yep."  


  
Dominic handed Matthew a third photo.   


  
"Anyone else you recognise here?"  


  
Matt peered long and hard at the new picture, staring over faces that drew flickers of familiarity through his brain, but wouldn't connect with any words. It felt like when you repeat a word over and over to yourself, stripping it to bare syllables, until it feels wrong in your mouth and twists beyond all recognition - and yet you _know_ that the word is a word you've used every day without care or thought for almost all of your life. He looked down at the faces of perhaps a dozen people who he knew meant all the world to him and tried not to panic. The names and the relations hung just out of reach, teasing, somewhere on the other side of the lens. His fingers curled on the glossy paper. Then he noticed himself on one side of the group, tangled up in a mix of tinsel and warm clothing for the December night, hanging off his sister's arm as she collapsed laughing at something beyond the photo's borders.   


  
New Year's Eve, 1999.  


  
"Brighton," he gasped, thumbing the photo. "Right after the countdown, right by the pier. Freezing," he smiled, taking a shaky breath to steady his words against the emotion rising in his chest. "There's my mum, and dad's next to her. That's when dad was around." He pointed them out with trembling fingers, though he was speaking to himself far more than to Dom. "And Simon, and Alice, brother and sister. She's already wankered, look at her. And cousins, Benjamin and Ruby and... no, Ruby wasn't born yet... that's Claire, not Ruby."   


  
His mumbling was so low and fast and quiet that, along with his distorted syllables, Dominic was completely unable to follow the list of names. Instead, he raised his eyes from the photo to gaze over Matthew's face, which was tensed against inevitable tears; within moments, the first droplet ran down his cheek and cut off his talking. Matt's hand hurriedly twitched as though desperate to wipe it away. The second and third followed. Face streaked with tears and arms too heavy to lift, he gave up on the photo to close his eyes, the urge to cover his face with his hands overwhelming. His fingers ached. Memories were flooding back so quickly that he wondered if the tears were spilling over from his brain, tumbling out from the strain they put on his head.   


  
A flashing image of the digital display at the petrol station burst across the backs of his eyelids and he flinched away, £78.22 still burning through his mind and through the engine as it thrummed beneath him, turning left out of the station for two miles. He saw the bike but it didn't see him, and he remembered a surge of panic, tinged with anger - _look where you're going, arsehole_ \- before he swerved into the opposite lane and avoided the collision with seconds to spare. He twisted frantically in his seat, staring at the stunned biker, and then paused to contort his face and stick his middle finger up at the wanker. Sudden guilt, a rush of worry, and curiosity regarding how he'd react - and then van headlights. Headlights that ran so fast and so far into the back of Matthew's head that he gave up on restraining his tears and let the air in his mouth burst outward in a sob.  


  
It completed the timeline - childhood, family, photos, the car, the crash. The car was where it all ended.  


  
Matt opened his eyes to the stinging cold of tears clinging between his eyelashes. His cheeks were being gently thumbed dry and there was a quiet hushing sound as Dominic stroked his face, soothing him. It should have comforted him, but instead he flinched away with confusion and distress.  


  
"Are _you_ family?" he asked.  


  
The hope in Dominic's chest shrank within him, hardening his eyes to fight back tears. When he looked into them, Matt felt his blood run cold at the change. Harder. More intimidating. A stranger bent over his bed as he lay helpless. Dom had never felt like a stranger before. He had been the anchor that held him sane, who comforted him every day, who took care of him when nurses and doctors were busy.  


  
"How much do you remember?" Dom said softly. He meant the words as whispers and he meant his fingers to stroke Matt's face with firmer, more encouraging strokes, but the other man heard the words spat out and felt a stranglehold clutching at his face. He tried to wriggle away, shaking his head. The fingers smothered him faster.  


  
"All of it," Matthew managed, and more tears ran down his face. Dom failed to notice the way his heart monitor sped up, or the way his tiny chest heaved frantically with panting breaths.  


  
"All of it?" Dom asked gently.  


  
"I know everyone, it's all back," Matt choked out, gasping. "I don't understand how I ever forgot."  


  
"But not me?"  


  
"I've never known you," Matt told him. He begged with his eyes to be let go, recoiling into the bed, eyes wide and terrified.   


  
Dom's heart broke.  


  
_"How_ can you not remember me?" he hissed, voice faltering with grief, hands running in numb disbelief through black hair and sending the scalp beneath it crawling with discomfort. " _How?_ After you _loved_ me?"  


  
There was a moment of silence and then Matthew burst into tears again.  


  
_"Get OFF,"_ he yelled, and Dominic flinched violently away from him. Each gasp was a sob, wracking Matthew's frail body until it convulsed dangerously in the bed, his eyes squeezed shut, fingers clenching in on the sheets and his head shaking back and forth like he was denying anything and everything that had happened in the last five minutes. Fear flashed through Dom's head as he saw the first tube rip from skin as Matt thrashed in the bed to push him away. A red line slashed across his forearm from where the needle had dragged sideways. Any attempt to calm him would harm him further. Dominic shrank back, hands over his mouth and tears sticking between his fingers. The blurred form of a panicked, wide-eyed Chris rushed past him and into the room.  


  
"What happened?" he asked, brushing past Dom and moving to Matt's side.  


  
"Make him go," Matt cried. The words tore past his vocal cords, warping into a wail.   


  
"You need to leave," Chris told him quickly before rushing to a cabinet in one corner of the room to prepare a syringe of sedative. "Take your bag. I'll phone you later."  


  
Somehow, Dominic nodded, dropping his hands from his face to inch closer to the bed and snatch up his rucksack before Matthew could lash out. He left the photographs scattered over the linoleum floor before rushing for the exit with his head down and the taste of salt on his lips.  



	15. Chapter 15

Dominic had sat in the car for almost an hour, staring at the steering wheel and letting each new wave of tears cry itself out until he was calm enough to drive. At first it had just been floodgates opening on every feeling that he'd been keeping locked away inside, forced down to some hidden room of his mind that he'd never dared himself to visit. Every shred of hope had been brutally extinguished. He felt terribly lost.

  
After all, what is there to do with your life once you've given it all away for a person that barely exists anymore? The Matthew in that bed was hardly the same Matthew he'd met in Trafalgar Square. They had grown together - explored together - and shared hopes, fears and promises that would shape their lives together in the waking world. They had changed each other.   


  
Or, rather, Matthew had changed Dominic. Any change that Dominic had made had been erased.  


  
Every time Dom thought his breaths were starting to come more evenly and that the last tears were drying on his cheeks, he remembered another moment or another image that had been wiped from Matthew's mind forever. Paper boats capsized by Matt the Kraken, or the time they had held each other and watched falling stars. Mud fights and chases through the corridors of Ghost House. Quiet kisses and moments where he could wrap his arms around the smaller man and physically feel the sun's warmth glowing around them, hotter and hotter the tighter he held him. Running down hills, drinking tea in a kimono, and - over and over in his mind - the time they spent together on the sky islands. Moments where they promised each other that no matter what happened, if Matthew woke up, they would be together.  


  
Each of those moments was a new crying fit. Dominic started to feel annoyed at himself, weakly attempting to pull himself together, but the tears wouldn't stop. And, if he was honest, what the hell was the point in putting on a brave face any longer?  


  
The faster he got this out of his system, the better.  


  
Eventually kicking the car into gear and exhaling shakily, he decided to stop by the petrol station on the way home for a bottle of the cheapest vodka he could find. He reasoned that tonight was going to be a difficult one. No sense in being fully conscious for it if he didn't have to.  


  
A pizza and six shots later, he had actually acquired a collection of bruises on his left shoulder from the number of times he'd stumbled into the doorframe on his way back and forth from the toilet. Matt's laptop was propped up on the bedroom floor opposite the pile of cushions and blankets that served as his improvised sofa, every joke from QI sailing over his head as he slumped against the wall, halfway to passing out. He kept blinking and when his eyelids slid open again, he'd be staring at the 'related videos' grid on the Youtube page. Bewildered, he flopped forwards and prodded one finger to the trackpad to click on the next episode.  


  
He was sure that he'd just been listening to Stephen Fry telling him something about fish when his eyes opened, sideways on the floor, face pressed into the carpet. Somehow, the laptop cord had been yanked out of its socket, and the screen had blacked out into sleep mode at about the same time as Dom had. It was completely dark outside now. More importantly, however, he could hear the shrill screech of the phone ringing.   


  
Groaning into the carpet with a throat raw from crying in the car and smoking on the doorstep, he staggered to his knees and shuffled forward to the top of the stairs before awkwardly clambering down and lurch down the hallway to the kitchen. He clinged to the walls as he passed them, eventually slumping against the counter and letting his forehead hit the cold surface of the chopping board. Crumbs from the pizza stuck in his hair.  


  
"Mm-hello?"  


  
"Dom? It's Chris."  


  
"Oh, hi Chris," he answered.  


  
"Sorry, did I wake you up?"  


  
"Nuh!" he exclaimed, trying his hardest to manage a coherent sentence. "Nah, m'fine. All good. What's up?"  


  
"Y... yeah," Chris said after a pause, less than convinced. "Look, it's fine, everything's fine. I gave Matt a sedative and he's fine, he woke up twenty minutes ago," he explained, "and he told me everything that happened. He keeps asking for you, mate."  


  
Dom's brow furrowed into the chopping board. "Mmm?"  


  
"That's all, he just kept telling me to call you and get you to drive back because he wants to talk to you."  


  
"I think he hates me," Dom slurred, flopping down onto the kitchen floor. The phone cord just about reached down to him. "He doesn't even know me. He told me to go."  


  
"Yesterday he told me to stick a pitchfork up my arse because I asked him if he wanted me to show him how the telly remote worked," came the crackly response down the line. "His emotions are all over the place, we know that. Medication, memories coming back, whatever. I'm not ordering you over here," he added quickly, "I'm just saying that the offer is open. You'd be more than welcome."  


  
"I want to see him," Dom whined. "Fuck. Alright. Look, Chris, I'm just... I'm pretty drunk, okay-"  


  
"Really."  


  
The sarcasm sailed in one ear and straight out of the other. "I'm pretty drunk. Too drunk to come over. I'll come over, though. Like, I dunno. Tomorrow."  


  
"Tomorrow?" Chris grinned. "Okay. As soon as you can stomach facing the outside world, drive over. I'll let Matt know you're coming."  


  
"Mmm." Dom smiled stupidly into the receiver. "Thanks for calling."  


  
"Night, Dom. Try not to puke up in your sleep and die."  


  
"Mmmnight."  


  
*  


  
The clinic had too much white in it, Dominic thought, considering it was full of people who were just waking up. The light sent a dull ache thudding in the back of his head and he tried not to wince as he scratched his arm and accidentally prodded at a bruise from the night before. He didn't notice Chris approaching until he'd almost bumped into the other man's chest.  


  
"Oh - hello," he started, blinking and forcing a smile. "Sorry, didn't see you there. You alright?"  


  
"You look like death," Chris told him with a barely concealed grin before steering him back on course towards the corridor that held Matthew's ward.   


  
"Thanks."  


  
They rounded the corner, Chris tapping on the door first to alert Matt. Blue eyes shot open and stared down, first taking in the nurse through the crack between door and frame, and then a sliver of Dominic hanging back, nervously peering in. A little smile pulled at the corners of his mouth and he raised his eyebrows to nod both of them in.  


  
"Come on. I'll just be a minute in here and then I'll leave you to it," Chris told him, half pushing Dom inside. He held up a small, clear container of liquid. "Just topping up his painkillers."  


  
"Can I get in on that?" Dom mumbled, taking his place at Matthew's side and slumping into the chair. He noted new plasters and a bandage around his arm from where the IV had been pulled, and that barriers had been put up on either side of the bed to prevent him from rolling around or falling off the mattress in his sleep.   


  
"What, this stuff?"  


  
"Yep."  


  
"Industrial strength painkiller? For people who have just come out of coma?"  


  
Dom snorted. _"Feels_ like I just came out of a fucking coma."  


  
Chris grinned, finishing playing with Matthew's drip and stepping back towards the door. "I'll find some regular paracetamol. And I'm gonna make myself beans on toast, if you want some."  


  
Dom gazed up at the nurse like he'd just suggested a day at a spa followed by a five course meal.  


  
"Back in a bit, then," he rolled his eyes, closing the door behind himself as he left.  


  
There was a slightly awkward pause while Matthew stared sleepily at Dominic, running his eyes over the other man. Dom shuffled uncomfortably, torn between not wanting to make eye contact and not wanting to ignore him.  


  
"Hi," Matt broke the quiet, unable to suppress a grin. "It's okay. Relax. I'm not going to freak out."  


  
Dom raised his eyebrows, miming a wary, overexaggerated shuffle to the edge of his chair, as far away from the other man as possible, eliciting a small giggle.  


  
"No, seriously, Dom, I'm really sorry," he said, and Dominic couldn't help marvelling at how quickly he was getting the hang of speech again. "I was all over the place. I keep getting really weird mood swings, like really angry, or whatever. About an hour ago, right, I just started _crying_ because Chris left the door ajar." He shrugged, expression completely baffled. "Just the door! Why? I _like_ having the door open a bit!" he exclaimed. "It means I can, y'know, watch people walking past, and listen to them talking, stuff like that." He tried a smile, hoping to see Dom mirror it. "And yesterday I was _trying_ to remember, I mean, _really_ trying, and my head hurt, and I kept thinking about my _mum_ , and-"  


  
"It's okay," Dom assured him, noticing that he was starting to get worked up again. "I'm sorry for pushing you, I just... it was a shock." He swallowed. "Just a really big shock."  


  
Matt nodded, lowering his eyes to the bedsheets and tracing his gaze over the weave of the cotton.  


  
"I feel like I was just a total prick," he muttered, "and I want to say sorry."  


  
"Not your fault." Dom's lips quirked in a smile. "Maybe I expected too much."  


  
Shrugging, he cocked his head to one side, still determinedly watching the blanket. "I definitely didn't mean that I wanted you to leave. It's - it's not been long, in here," he frowned, "but you've meant a lot to me, you know?" He tittered nervously; one hand circled limply in the air as he tried to find the right phrases. "Just waking up, Dom. It... waking up was terrifying. The first time. When you can't even see, and you don't know who you are, and you don't know where you are, and you're like... you're like a baby?" He let the sentence rise in pitch at the end to turn it into a question. "Like a baby who's just been born and you haven't a fucking _clue_ where to begin. To be honest, you can't tell if it's waking up, or if it's dying, and there are voices kind of-" he waved his fingers vaguely toward the ceiling, "up there, and some say you _are_ going to die."  


  
"Who said you were going to die?"  


  
"I dunno," he snorted, "but there was your voice, and I got used to it enough to recognise when you were visiting. The first thing I remembered was you talking, and it was..." he trailed off, shutting his eyes and giggling, head bowed with embarrassment. "Do you know who I thought you were?"  


  
Dom's lips tautened with the beginnings of an involuntary smile as he shook his head, tilting it to one side.  


  
"I thought you were, like... _god,"_ Matt mumbled, flushing and dropping his head to one side, like he could burrow away into the pillow and away from the peal of laughter that had just burst from Dom's mouth. "Shut up, I thought I was dead, and you were like... _the voice,"_ he grinned. His own voice was starting to get hoarse from talking so much. "But. Anyway. I had no clue who you were but I trusted you and whenever you talked to me or held on to me, I knew I was safe, and I knew it was going to be okay."  


  
Apprehensively, Dominic reached out so that his hand lay just within reach of Matthew's. The smaller man took it without hesitation and squeezed, happily watching the space where their fingers met. The bones of his fingers stuck out, white against his skin, and his wrist looked impossibly frail in contrast with the hand holding onto him.  


  
"I wish I remembered," he murmured. "Whoever you were, you must have been incredibly special to me."  


  
"We were very close," Dominic told him, one corner of his mouth twitching. Ghosts flickered across grey eyes.  


  
Matt brought his other hand across his body to close over Dom's fingers.  


  
"Tell me," he said softly.   


  
Countless times, Dominic had run that question through his head. In the car on the way over. In front of the laptop the night before. Even weeks previously, during his shifts at work, he'd let his thoughts brush the notion that maybe Matt wouldn't remember him, and maybe he'd be asked to tell him their story. Torrents of possibilities had crossed his mind - each more intricately thought through than the last - but right now, head pounding, heart aching, there was only one way he had the strength to explain, and that was as simply as possible.  


  
"You were already in the coma," he started. "In a hospital on the other side of London. I was working on a prototype of some software that we thought we could use to communicate with coma patients."  


  
"It worked, then?"  


  
"Yep."  


  
Matt's eyebrows raised. "Cool."  


  
Dom snorted. "Yeah. Cool."  


  
"So we talked?"  


  
"Uh huh. It was like playing a video game, where we were standing in this world that your brain was imagining for you, and we could talk. For you it was completely real, like real life, but for me there was a bit more typing involved. I was meant to research what the world was like, and how it worked, and how your thoughts worked."  


  
Matthew's eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly.   


  
"Anyway, we met in there, and then I quickly gave up on the research because, you know," Dom's eyes fixed solidly on their joined hands, "we fell in love."  


  
Eyes shooting wide open, Matt barely restrained a burst of disbelieving laughter. He didn't notice Dominic's jaw clench suddenly with hurt. "In love?"  


  
"A bit, yeah."  


  
"Christ. Alright. God I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh." Matthew began stroking at Dom's hand gently, hoping that somehow it would soothe him. "Just... you know how it sounds, right?"  


  
"Of course."  


  
"I don't even... I mean, I'm not gay," he started. "Well. I don't know. Maybe I'm not picky," he shrugged, "I was curious back when I was a teenager but everyone else was chasing girls, so, I dunno, I joined in. With limited success."  


  
"You were pretty fucking gay when you were in a coma," Dominic taunted. A grin slipped onto his face despite himself.  


  
"You see," Matt reasoned, frowning with a little smile playing over his lips, "I really can't see why you'd be making this up."  


  
"No?"  


  
"No. I mean, instinct is telling me that you escaped from the psychiatric ward at the hospital and decided you felt like kidnapping me, but seriously," he said, "how? Chris trusts you, and so did the hospital, and all of my family. So you're... really, really not lying." He paused. "Unless I actually hated you, and you just _told_ everyone that we were in love. But that doesn't explain the bit where I instantly trusted you, or the bit where you're not a dickhead."  


  
"I'm not a dickhead?"  


  
"No. You're brilliant." Matt thumbed the back of his hand. "Chris has told me about the money, and the extra jobs and everything. I think I owe you my life, don't I."  


  
Shuffling in his chair, Dom felt warmth and relief rose up in his chest. New love for the tiny, frail figure in the bed spread through him; the boundless trust and acceptance that Matthew held for him inspired the same glow of affection that it had months ago in Trafalgar Square. _I'm visiting you from the real world and you're trapped inside your own imagination?_ No problem, let's have coffee. _Hi, you don't remember me, but we fucked in a coma._ Sounds reasonable, thankyou for paying my medical fees.  


  
"Look," Matthew said softly. His throat ached and he attempted to swallow, trying to soothe it. "You can do whatever you like at this point, but I'd really like you to keep visiting. I'm not saying anything will ever happen between us again, however shitty that is to hear, but I mean that you clearly meant a lot to me and I'd be an idiot to tell you to piss off."  


  
Dominic pulled a face. "It's not... too weird?"  


  
"Nah." His face fell into a lopsided grin.  


  
"Even with the sex?"  


  
"...We fucked?!"  


  
Dom's eyes widened with sudden panic, words tripping over each other. "Y... well, yeah, we-"  


  
Matt burst into another fit of giggles, which began to rasp at his sore throat. "Oh, fucking hell. Was I at least on top?"  


  
He bit his lip, caught up in Matt's infectious giggles and unable to keep a straight face at the other man's sudden look of horror. "Nope. You enjoyed it at the time, promise!"  


  
"Christ," he grinned, lying back into the pillows. "No. Not too weird. Don't worry about it. I'll get over it."  


  
"You tired?"  


  
"I kind of am," came Matthew's reply, and his voice was coming slower and beginning to strain from too much use without a rest. His brows creased as he tried to swallow again, closing his eyes. "Stay, though?"  


  
Dominic squeezed his hand and lifted it to quickly kiss across the back of his knuckles before standing up. "I'm going to go and see what happened to those beans on toast, but then I'll be back. Alright?"  


  
"'Kay," came a little yawning sigh. "Night, Dom."  



	16. Chapter 16

  
Matthew's eyes began to itch but he didn't dare blink, his stare glazed and unwavering as the midday news played across the television screen that hung on the wall opposite his bed. Unemployment was up. Riots had spread their wings and swarmed to countries he'd previously considered holiday destinations. The Queen had visited a hospital in Ealing. Camera panning across the studio, a weatherman began explaining that autumn was well and truly settled in, with flooding in Wales and the first frost of the year threatening the nation's vegetable patches.

  
_What the hell kind of use is the weather to me?_ he thought, awkwardly stabbing at the remote until the telly switched off. Precise movements were difficult, and he frequently found that operating the remote took a good deal more effort and time than it did for anyone else.   


  
_What wouldn't I give to get caught in a rainstorm and have to run for cover. Or to have my umbrella blown inside out. Or arrive home and spend half an hour finding radiator space to drape wet clothes over._   


  
Matthew stared up at the ceiling, counting the tiles yet again, just to be absolutely certain that there were no less than one hundred and twenty six and a half. He rolled his eyes around the room, sighing softly, and kicked at the mattress with boredom.  


  
Longer gaps between consciousness and exhaustion meant that he frequently found himself this bored. Dom was always working. Chris had approximately a million other patients to look after.  


  
He kicked the bed again, feeling a pleasant tingle scrambling up his left leg as it moved. His hands wandered, exploring the sheets, twisting them up and feeling them slide against his belly. It was then that he realised his knuckles had brushed against something equally hard, and something wonderful shot through his stomach and up into his chest.  


  
Hands freezing where they were, he held his breath, staring down at the portion of the sheets that lay directly above where it had come from. He shifted his fingers, just a little, and felt another tingle, which burst outwards as he closed his fist around his cock, which was a lot harder than it usually was. Grunting softly, he let go of it to watch the tip strain against the covers, pushing them upwards in a tent. The rub of fabric on his sensitive slit fascinated him; eyes widened as it slid harshly over such a fragile, swollen stretch of skin. It hurt, but in a nice way. He began to touch and tease himself, constantly shocked by the feelings spreading through his gut, and let out a little moan into the silent room around him.   


  
It was like nothing he had ever remembered feeling before, and yet it sent comfort coiling up in his stomach. He wanted to curl into a ball but his muscles wouldn't respond. Whimpering in confusion and delight, he reached his other hand down and began touching his balls, cradling the hot, soft sack of skin and testing its weight as it lay in his fingers. He could feel it bulging between his legs, swollen with seed that his body had been unable to release for almost seven months. Matthew groaned aloud, the sound far louder than he'd intended it to be, and squeezed his eyes shut. He found that the harder and the faster he touched, the better his hands made him feel, and the noises coming from his throat began twisting themselves into words; whispered curses and quiet, stunned encouragements to his own fingers as they began gliding up and down more urgently.  


  
A crease appeared between his brows and he bit his lower lip as he began rough movements beneath his blankets, body shaking, fingers flexing and - within half a minute - the very tip of his cock welled up and spilled over with thick streams of sticky fluid; they slid down and streaked his thighs, pooling in the mattress where he lay. The sound that burst from between his lips was a strangled cry, cut short with shock at the delight pouring from within. At first his fingers immediately strayed back to his still-stiff cock but the skin was now oversensitive, throbbing gently, and he gave up to close his eyes and sink backwards into the bed. His fingers splayed, dragging back up his body, spreading thin trails of come over the concave planes of his stomach and the ribs jutting from his chest until he found his nipples. They were taut, tiny dark buds, tingling whenever he touched them, and he began to alternate between pinching and soothing them as he came down from his orgasm.   


  
"Matt."  


  
His eyes slid open lazily, a faint smile on his face as he let his head flop to one side. Strands of his fringe fell over his vision as he looked up at the man standing over him. He wasn't sure exactly when someone else had entered the room, but it didn't seem to matter. Nothing seemed to matter in that moment.  


  
Chris sighed, gently sliding his hands under the sheets to circle his fingers around Matthew's wrists. He pulled them out, laying them on the top of the blankets where they belonged, and reached over to a nearby table for a box of tissues. Matt's fingers lay limp as he wiped them clean.  


  
"Felt good," Matt murmured, his eyes already closed.   


  
"I know," Chris told him, pulling the sheets back to begin cleaning the rest of his small body, "but that's something you're supposed to keep to yourself. Not when other people are around, you know?"  


  
Matthew's eyes cracked open. "Not even you?"  


  
"Nope. Not me, not Dom, not family, not other nurses. I'll always help clean you up afterwards if you need help, but it's something special that you do by yourself. Generally, don't let anyone watch unless you'd be happy with them joining in. Would you want me to join in?"  


  
Matt paused for a moment before sticking his bottom lip out and shaking his head, shrinking back into his pillows.  


  
"Good," Chris answered, throwing the tissues in the bin. "Me neither. And be careful of this thing, okay?"  


  
Matt stared down at the feeding tube that was still poking out of his abdomen; he giggled down at it, wriggling his belly to watch it move. Rolling his eyes, Chris stood up to wash his hands.  


  
"Be very careful of that. You don't want it getting infected, so try not to touch it. Understand?"  


  
Giggling again, Matt resumed wriggling. Chris gave up, drying his hands and heading for the door.   


  
"Chris, look!" he called, momentarily halting the nurse's exit, "it's like an umbilical cord! _I'm a giant mutant foetus. Fear meee-!"_  


  
The sound of the door closing rang through the room. Matthew wriggled his stomach again, pulling a face and sticking his middle fingers up at the closed door before flopping back into his pillows with a long, bored sigh.  


  
_Now what._   


  
He raised an eyebrow and peered down at where his dick lay, dark against his thigh.  


  
_Why, I think I have a new hobby._   


  
*  


  
The phone rang just as Dominic had managed to balance the last pear on top of the fruit bowl mountain he'd been constructing while waiting for his dinner to cook. The shrill ringing made him jump, jerking his hand and displacing a load bearing banana. He let Fruit Mountain tumble to the table and grabbed the phone off the hook.  


  
"Hello?"  


  
"Hi, it's Chris. Did you say he had a keyboard?"  


  
Dom frowned and tilted his head to one side. "Who, Matt?"  


  
"No, the Pope. Of _course_ Matt."  


  
His eyebrows raised at the unexpected sass. "Yeah, I've got his keyboard."  


  
"Perfect," Chris sighed. "He's learned to wank and it's driving me mental. Bring the piano."  


  
"I... wh-"  


  
"I have to go, but I'll see you tonight, yeah?"  


  
"Y-yeah. Of course. See you tonight."  


  
Dominic hung up the phone, mind reeling, very certain that particular phrase was never one he'd ever expected to hear in his lifetime.  


  
The keyboard - when boxed - took a good ten or fifteen minutes to lodge across the back seats of his car, considering it was a three-door, and the front seats hadn't properly tilted forward without protest for a good year or two. Having crammed it diagonally into the gap and given it a good shove, Dom had given up and decided to spend the drive to the clinic that evening hunched over, his neck crooked so that the corner of the box didn't jab into the back of his skull every time they went over a bump in the road. Manoeuvring it _out_ of the car proved even more of a challenge, though he had to conclude that the most fun part of the journey had been in hauling it up the three flights of stairs to Matt's floor.   


  
"Do you need a hand, love?"  


  
He grunted, tilting his neck back so that his face was slightly less squashed into the side of the box, and addressed the speaker - a small, chubby old woman with a strong northern accent, an eagerly friendly face, and clip-on earrings that had stretched her earlobes slightly over the years. Heartwarming but, of course, utterly useless. He offered what he hoped was a grateful smile which probably came out as more of a grimace as the box slid an inch or two further past his fingertips.  


  
"Fine, thanks," he answered.  


  
"Why've you got a piano?"  


  
He shrugged, rolling his eyes at the top floor. "Coma."  


  
She patted his arm with a sympathetic, knowing smile before carrying on her way down the stairs. "Do some Leonard Cohen. They just _love_ a bit of Leonard Cohen."  


  
"Er - thanks." Dominic stared confusedly into space for a moment and nodded slowly, continuing his climb. "I will."  


  
He pushed Matthew's door open with his hip, dragging the box in behind him, and swore loudly as it briefly trapped his fingers against the door frame.  


  
"Evening to you too," Matt huffed, watching the display with amusement.  


  
"Fuck off."  


  
"What's that?" He inclined his head in the direction of the box, pointing with his nose.  


  
Dom hauled it upright, sucked on his bruised fingers, and gestured to the huge picture of a keyboard plastered across the packaging. "It's a cello, Matt."  


  
A little frown fell over Matt's face. "How'd you get it to fit in the keyboard box?"  


  
Dumbfounded, Dom stared incredulously at the figure in the bed, his fingers slowly falling out of his mouth with disbelief.  


  
"Oh!" Matthew's mouth spread into a delighted grin, his eyes lighting up. "My _keyboard!_ I remember my keyboard!"  


  
The smile was infectious - Dominic returned it, dragging the box closer. "Call it a Hallowe'en present. D'you want to have a go now?"  


  
"Nah, I'll wait till you've left," Matt answered, though his eyes lingered happily on the picture on the front of the box. "Something to look forward to."  


  
He leaned over to give Matthew a quick hug before sitting down, warmth spreading through his chest at the feeling of that tiny body squirming briefly but contentedly against his own. Tubes pressed between them and the barriers at the sides of the mattress dug into his waist, but Dominic knew that the contact meant the world to both of them. For entirely different reasons, perhaps, but it meant the world nonetheless.  


  
"Been up to much?" Dom asked, smirking.  


  
Matt's head fell back and he kicked the mattress, stirring up the blankets. "You're not funny. I'm losing my mind."  


  
"I think I'm hilarious."  


  
"I mean, _actually_ losing my mind. Like I'll have woken up for nothing. It's not the coma that turns people into vegetables, it's the bit in the bed afterwards." His head flopped to one side to regard Dom properly, his expression forlorn.  


  
"Can't you watch telly?"  


  
"I've seen four episodes of Loose Women today."  


  
"Jesus Christ."  


  
Matthew closed his eyes and nodded, faking a quiet sob.  


  
"Is it still hard changing the channel?"  


  
He shrugged with one shoulder and pulled a face, reaching out for where the remote lay by his side. His hand pawed at it a few times as he concentrated on gripping and lifting. His motor control was definitely improving, but only with concentration. "I can change it," he answered, "but it's that or The Alan Titchmarsh Show, and frankly, I'd rather just hang myself with my IV and get it over with."  


  
Dominic smiled halfheartedly and slumped forward, resting his chin on the barrier. "Chris suggested the keyboard."  


  
"Yeah, he told me it might help sort my fingers out, too," Matthew replied, trying to flex his fingers in demonstration. All that happened was that they fell limp, twitching, and then his entire hand jerked violently. "Muscle memory and stuff."  


  
"And confidence," Dom added. "No offence, but you're pretty useless in there."  


  
"Oh, cheers," Matt sulked, kicking the bed again. It seemed to be his expression of any and all frustration.  


  
"Well, you are," he answered gently, "but this'll be good. It'll give you something to be proud of, I think, and I reckon that'll improve things. You know, resolve some issues there."  


  
"And who the fuck are you? Jeremy fucking Kyle?"  


  
Dominic leaned out lazily to prod Matthew in the side, inspiring a spasm of writhing, giggly curses. "You're turning into a right mouthy little shit."  


  
"And you're a cunt," Matt protested, masking his smiles with an unimpressed pout. "Who the hell comes into coma clinics and _taunts_ the patients?"  


  
"I brought a keyboard. If you bring a keyboard you don't count as a cunt."  


  
_"Nyeh nyeh nyeh keyboard,_ " Matt imitated, pulling a grotesque face and flapping his hands in mid-air. _"Bleh bleh bleh cunt."_  


  
Dom felt delight glowing through him as Matt mocked him and he giggled helplessly, swatting the bony hands away when they began to playfully but weakly hit at his face. The mischievous glint that had sparked in Matthew's eyes told him that the teasing was not just welcome, but the best part of the smaller man's day. Dominic's heart leapt to see him so full of life.  


  
"Seriously though, thanks for the piano," Matt conceded, giving up his attack on Dom's face. "That'll help. I just need a distraction, really. I keep wanting to get _out_."  


  
"Out?"  


  
"Just _out_ ," he answered, and Dom noticed his eyes flick unconsciously to the window on the left hand side of the room. "I want to just be outside."  


  
"It'll be a while before you're strong enough for the outdoors."  


  
"Not even outdoors!" Matt exclaimed. "Just another room, or Chris' office, or something. Or the window." His eyes slid properly to it this time, watching where a pale cloud was slowly drifting across the night sky, illuminated with the orange glare of light pollution. "I wish I could see out the window from the bed."  


  
"I wonder if we could get you a wheelchair," Dominic murmured thoughtfully, resting his chin back on the barrier and then letting his head roll to the side so he was leaning on his cheek. "Just for a little bit. You know, take you to the window, and if that works out, I could walk you around the corridors."  


  
Matt's eyes widened and shot back to Dom's. They were full of childish joy.  


  
"That'd be amazing. I'd really, really love that. Can we do that?"  


  
"I dunno, I'll ask Chris," Dom answered. "I'll go ask him now, I want a cup of tea anyway."  


  
"Oh!" If it were possible for Matthew's grin to widen, it would have. "Chris says I can swallow now," he said, pausing to gulp in demonstration, "so I can try food soon. And he gave me chewing gum to practice."  


  
"That," Dom told him, "is brilliant. You're fucking brilliant."  


  
"It's all minty." Matt breathed hard at Dom's face. "See? It doesn't smell like something died down my throat."  


  
"Even better."   


  
"And then they can take my tube out," he continued. Dom got the impression that, like a child at bedtime, the other man was stalling - searching for something new to hold his attention just long enough to keep him in the room. "Which'll be horrible. Just gotta yank it out, like, just grab one end and pull," he said. "Could you maybe come and visit for that?"  


  
"Of course," he smiled, leaning down and kissing Matthew's forehead. His lips were halfway there before the thought crossed his mind that maybe it wasn't alright, but a reassuring smile told him otherwise. He pulled away, gently stroking Matt's fringe back from his forehead. "It won't be that bad. It'll only take a second."  


  
"Ugh. You sound like Chris."  


  
"I'm going to go ask him about the wheelchair," Dom told him, standing up and heading for the door. "I'll be ten minutes."  


  
"...Dom?"  


  
He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and pursed his lips with amusement. "What now?"  


  
"Can you put the blankets back?" Matthew kicked the bed again, and Dominic noticed that the covers had fallen back, exposing a painfully thin, white calf. "Leg's cold and I can't reach."  


  
 Hiding his dismay at how severely the muscles had wasted away, Dom obliged, gently rubbing Matt's legs through the blankets when they had been replaced. He felt them twitch in reflex beneath his palms.  


  
"There," he smiled, walking back and opening the door. "Back in a sec."  


  
_"Oh,_ Dom?"  


  
He twisted around to stare exasperatedly back at Matt, whose face bore an expression that absolutely refused to admit embarrassment or regret.  


  
"Tell Chris I spunked in the sheets about three hours ago and it needs cleaning up."  


  
Dominic's face flashed through about seven emotions at once before he nodded once, quickly, and sidled out of the room. He just about managed to hear Matthew calling 'and it's getting really itchy' before the door closed, sparing him any further details.  



	17. Chapter 17

"If he can do telekinesis," Matt frowned slowly, staring up at the television screen, "why does the plane engine have to land on his past self?"

  
"Hmm?"  


  
Dom leaned slightly towards the side of the bed. His neck twinged from the ache that had developed over the last couple of hours. It wasn't that the chair was particularly uncomfortable, but more that he had been tilting his head back throughout the film.   


  
"If he can rip it off the plane," he answered. "I mean, he can go back in time, take a jet engine and throw it through the vortex onto his old house. Why can't he just get it to land in the garden or something?"  


  
One shoulder shrugged noncommittally. "'Cos he has to die, I think. Or maybe then there'd be two of him."  


  
"Nah there wouldn't, the universe falls apart and he dies. If I were him," Matt explained, "I'd have dropped the jet engine on that paedo's house. Everyone's a winner."  


  
"Except the paedo."  


  
_"Fuck_ the paedo."  


  
"I don't think I'm his type," Dom smirked briefly, flicking the telly off and cutting the credit music out. "Are you gonna try finishing this?"  


  
Matthew followed the direction Dominic's finger was pointing, shooting the yoghurt pot with an accusatory squint. It was a small yoghurt - the kind that toddlers eat at dinnertime - and it was almost finished, but he felt full.  


  
"Dunno. Can't tell if I'm hungry."  


  
Picking the spoon up, Dom poked around at the yoghurt at the bottom. "There's only one or two spoons left."  


  
"Oh. Go on, then."  


  
Dom scooped up a spoonful of the pale pink yoghurt and leaned forward, holding it out and nodding for Matthew to open his mouth before feeding him; while Matt was improving when it came to lifting or holding things, he couldn't balance or hold anything steady to save his life. Dominic felt the spoon being gently tugged in his grip as Matt slurped the yoghurt up and licked it clean, his angular features relaxing into complete contentment as the taste of strawberry hit his tongue. With some effort, he managed to swallow both mouthfuls.   


  
"First yoghurt," Dominic grinned, throwing it into the nearby bin and dropping the spoon to the table with a tinkling sound. "Well done."  


  
Matthew licked his lips before smiling happily and lying back into his pillows, letting his eyelids close. He twitched as Dom's hand found his belly and began rubbing in gentle circles as Chris had shown him, soothing his stomach. The feeling of fullness was an unfamiliar discomfort; his tube had been closed and now resembled a plug which allowed a new feeding programme that gave mealtimes at intervals throughout the day. Dominic's fingers were careful to skate around the tiny lump where it lay beneath the covers. The new programme meant he often felt hungry when a feed was due, which encouraged him to try eating independently.  


  
One yoghurt and he was full and sleepy, sinking into the warmth of the bed as Dom continued to quietly massage his abdomen. At first he felt his eyelids slipping, and then he felt them struggle to even open, and then he blinked once to find that it was dark outside and the lights were low to let him rest. His eyes were still bleary from sleep but he looked up, noticing movement at the foot of his bed, and heard the door closing.  


  
"Chris?" he mumbled, blinking and struggling to lean up on his elbows.  


  
"No, it's me," he heard Dom whisper.  


  
"Oh." He coughed, rubbing his eye clumsily and almost punching himself in the face in the process. The covers slipped down his chest, pooling around his waist. "'S the time?"  


  
"I dunno, about ten," came the response. "I've been to work. You slept all afternoon."  


  
Matthew blinked harder and felt his mind clear slightly; Dom had reached his side. Or, more accurately, he had got as close as possible - which was a couple of feet away, because he was pushing something ahead of him, and that thing was a couple of feet long.  


  
"Ooh," he grinned stupidly at the wheelchair sitting next to him, the skin of his arms straining as non-existant muscles fought to hold him in a sitting position.  "that's a wheelchair."  


  
Dominic rolled his eyes, picking up his normal chair and moving it out of the way. "D'you think we can get you into it?"  


  
Matt nodded, suddenly wide awake with nervous excitement. "Yeah. There's - there's the drip, there, and you just need to... uh..."  


  
Blinking at the drip, his eyes followed where the tube trailed to his arm. He bit his lip.  


  
"Get Chris to do it?" Dom suggested.  


  
"Get Chris to do it," Matt agreed, grinning and lying back. Dominic turned on his heel and disappeared from the room again, leaving Matthew to kick his feet excitedly at the mattress.  


  
Ten minutes later, Chris had transferred the drip to the wheelchair and was carefully sliding his arms under Matt's body to lift him from the bed and into his arms. Dom watched, chewing nervously at the inside of his mouth, awkwardly averting his gaze when he remembered that Matthew didn't have any clothes. There was also the small matter of tubes in places he really didn't feel comfortable thinking about right now.  


  
"You'd better not be looking at me," Matt grumbled from somewhere against Chris' chest as he was lowered into the chair. "Look at my fucking legs. They're repulsive. And oh, Jesus Christ, that's not what I think it is, is it?"  


  
"What?" Chris answered, covering him in a fresh blanket and making sure he was completely wrapped up.  


  
"It is, isn't it." Matt shut his eyes tight. "Dom, you're not allowed to look at the bag of poo."  


  
"I wasn't... _planning_ on-"  


  
"Promise me you won't look at it. It's disgusting. You won't ever visit me again."  


  
A cascade of possible retorts concerning Matt's arse tumbled through his mind, but he kept his mouth closed and knelt down beside the wheelchair, tucking a thin, cold leg behind the stretch of blanket that it had somehow escaped from. He pressed a quick kiss to the curve of the material that hung over a bony knee.  


  
"If you want to get rid of me you'll have to try harder than that," he murmured. It was said almost too quickly and too quietly to be heard, and he really had no will to repeat himself when Matt shot him a questioning glance. It was fortunate that Chris took that moment to indicate the bags and how they slotted into place below the chair, giving him an excuse to duck behind Matthew's field of vision.  


  
"Just make sure the tubes don't get caught here, and here, and just do everything in the same order to get him back into bed," Matt heard Chris say. He felt the brakes flicked off in a jolting sensation through the back of the chair, and a tiny shift in the wheels. His fingers tightened on the armrests and he licked his lips. The chair rocked back again as Chris let go of the handles and stepped away, handing control to Dominic and leaving to attend to other patients.  


  
"Alright," came a soft voice from behind him, and he felt the chair shift again as Dom took the handles and pushed him forward slightly. "Window?"  


  
"Window," Matt nodded excitedly, his blood pounding through his veins at the simple movements. The chair was moved smoothly over the linoleum, Dom carefully pulling him up at the window and then letting go.  


  
"Was that it?"  


  
"We're at the window, aren't we?"  


  
"Do a wheelie."  


  
Dom ignored him, kicking the brakes back on and pulling up his chair so they could sit side by side.  


  
Matthew's eyes weren't wide, but they shone with quiet fascination as he watched the shifting back and forth of lights outside the clinic. The car park was small, but it lay just off a busy London road, which was streaming with taxis and the occasional bus carrying people toward the centre of the city for the Friday night. The pavements glittered black with recent rainfall, and each light was refracted through countless raindrops that clinged to the outside of the window pane. Matt traced the path of a trickling droplet with his eyes, watching the green of a traffic light glint off its left edge before it tumbled lower, picking up yellow indicators and red brake lights before it slipped away into the wet windowsill. Above street level, lit windows on upper floors showed offices and empty stairwells, and occasionally a flat whose residents had veiled from view by a set of heavy curtains. Several of the rooms contained televisions, judging by the flickering blue that filtered through the fabric. Still higher, Matthew watched a helicopter scroll across the city sky, and beyond that, a plane circled to continue south from Heathrow.  


  
He had no idea how long he'd spent staring over the constantly shifting scenery before he felt a nudge at his side. Dominic was replacing a corner of blanket that had fallen from his shoulder, showing goosebumps that had prickled over his upper arm.  


  
"You're going to get cold," Dom told him, rubbing his arm through the blanket. Warmth spread from the friction, but dissipated as quickly as it had appeared.  


  
"Better cold than bored."  


  
"No, you should get back into bed." He stood up, moving to pull the chair back towards the bed.  


  
"Just a sec," Matthew pleaded, nodding up at the sky. "When that drop hits the windowsill?"  


  
Sighing, he sat back down and looked over the window pane. Déjà vu settled over him.  


  
"...Which drop?"  


  
_"That_ one." A thin hand made a feeble attempt to point up. "It _just_ fell a bit."  


  
Dominic pointed it out. "That one?"  


  
"Yes!"  


  
"Alright, I'm this one, then," Dom pointed to one about half a foot to the left, "race to the bottom."  


  
Matt tutted, sucking air between his teeth at the challenge. "Foolish. I've got a well-defined channel running here."  


  
"I'm bigger. Bigger raindrops go faster."  


  
His head shook. "It's all about the channels."  


  
"The big ones carve the channels."  


  
Pouting up at the window pane, Matthew watched as Dominic's larger drop cascaded past his, taking an unexpected swerve in direction and splitting into a V shape. One of the arms swallowed Matt's drop completely.  


  
"Oh."  


  
"You ate me," Matt grinned, shivering noticably now. "That's not allowed and you lose."  


  
"Alright, I lose, and now you have to go to bed," came the reply from Dom, who was already on his feet and far more urgently concerned with Matt's temperature. The wheelchair squeaked slightly as it was swivelled around and back towards the bed. He was just about to hang the drip back on its original post when he froze in his tracks, looking between the bed and the shivering figure in the wheelchair.  


  
Matt frowned. "You alright?"  


  
"I... yeah," Dom answered, taking his hands off the wheelchair. "D'you want me to get Chris? For lifting you, I mean?"  


  
Matt shrugged. "No, come on, it'll be faster, he's probably busy. Honestly, I won't be much of a challenge to carry," he snorted.  


  
Grateful for the low lighting, Dom felt his face heating. It wasn't in any way a pleasant feeling.  


  
"I mean would you _prefer_ him to put you back," he replied.  


  
The blankets began falling off as Matt shrugged again. "Not really. Knock yourself out. Have a good look. Must be frustrating, having me covered in blankets the whole time."  


  
His hands faltered awkwardly as he unclipped the bags from below the wheelchair and back into place at the bed.  


  
"And what the hell does _that_ mean?"  


  
"I dunno," Matt giggled, oblivious to the tension that had closed in on the room. "Far as I'm concerned, you can do whatever the hell you like with me. You know." He let his head fall back to stare up at the ceiling he knew so well. "There's that _tiny_ issue where I owe you my life."  


  
Dom's fingers had been about to close on the blankets, but they closed up into fists. He felt his chest tighten and his skin crawl.  


  
"That's not how this is," he answered tersely, gesturing between the two of them.  


  
"Why not?" Matt blinked up at him, his smile humourless. "Go on. Pick me up. You can go home and wank over it later. It'll be fun."  


  
He felt his stomach curl in on itself with nausea.  


  
"I'm getting Chris," Dom muttered, stepping away quickly, but not quick enough. Matthew's hand closed around his wrist. It only succeeded in halting him because he was worried that pulling free would hurt Matt's hand.  


  
"Oh, come on, Dom," Matt rolled his eyes, "he's busy, I'm cold, and you're right here. Just get on with it."  


  
His jaw clenched hard as he realised Matthew was right, and also that he had no idea which rooms to search for Chris in. He took one last glance between the door and Matt's cold fingers around his wrist before swearing quietly and prising them away, dropping his hand abruptly and pulling the blankets off his tiny figure as quickly as possible. As soon as they were cast aside, he roughly slid his arms around Matt's body and lifted, only looking down once to check the tubes weren't caught around the armrests of the wheelchair. He was terrifyingly light; frail, twig-like arms looped around his neck to cling on tighter. Blue eyes flashed dangerously close to his. Dom's breath caught in his throat, the taste of bile threatening to rise in the back of his mouth. His fingers pressed into pale skin and his mind flashed back to carrying Matt just like this through a pool of warm water, kisses laid across his neck and hot skin sliding wetly together as he lay him down. Blinking, he looked down at the skeletal, shaking man in his arms.  


  
"Ouch," Matt grunted as he was dropped to the bed and the blankets were thrown back over his body. "Well, way to rush it."  


  
Dom closed his eyes and turned away to hide his face, pushing the wheelchair against the wall.  


  
"I'm going to go," he said shakily. "I don't want to see you for a few days."  


  
"Oh, come on, Dom," came an exasperated sigh from the bed. "I'm trying to do you a favour, y'know, so it feels less like you're taking advantage of me. The gentleman act is very sweet and everything, but seriously, you can drop it. The least you deserve after all this crap is a bit of cooperation on my part, yeah?"  


  
"Stop it," Dom whispered, staring at the floor.  


  
"I know. You can pick, okay? You can kiss me and leave now, or you can hold me until I fall asleep." Matt let his hands flop limply into the blankets. "Your call."  


  
"I'm just leaving," he answered quietly. "I'm here because I want you to be looked after, not because I expect anything back."  


  
"Ri-ight." The word was sickeningly drawn out.  


  
"I'm fucking serious, and I'm not coming back until you stop talking like this." Each sentence was forced out past the lump in his throat. "It's cruel. You're being cruel."  


  
"Sure, because _you're_ the one having a hard time," Matt snorted. He saw Dom reel as though physically hit, but he drove on, now in full flow. "It must be so fucking difficult for you, having to look after someone you love. Having to interrupt your routine of walking around and having a job and going home to your own bed just to come and see me. At least you're not a crippled freak without a home or, you know, much of a fucking _life_ to speak of."  


  
He wanted to stop talking as much as Dom wanted to leave the room, but neither could pull away.  


  
"And you can take a shit or jerk off without needing to ask someone else to clean up afterwards. Do you have any idea how degrading that is? To joke about it and take the piss and act like it doesn't bother me when actually, I'm twenty three, and it's so humiliating I just want to hang myself on my drip? And you always look fucking miserable when you think I'm not looking, you know? And I know you're remembering us? Well, at least you fucking _remember_. I've got nothing. Just some creepy stranger who tucks me in at night so he doesn't feel quite so fucking lonely when he goes home to bed."  


  
He'd been so lost in the rant pouring from his mouth that the first Matt realised of Dom leaving the room was the sound of the door softly shutting halfway through the last word. The air rang coldly with the echo of what he'd just said, and his eyes shut tight with a groan of regret.  


  
Mood swings again. Boredom certainly didn't help. When there was no one to talk to but himself all day, it was a lot harder to exercise caution when it came to actual conversation.  


  
He really hadn't meant that.  


  
Immediately he wanted to call Dom back, but it was already too late. He sat up fast, staring at the wheelchair in the corner, and wondered how much time it would take him to move back into it. He'd barely begun his calculations before he remembered that Dom was in possession of fully functioning limbs, and that in the time it had taken him to sit up, the other man had probably made it to the end of the corridor.  


  
He really, _really_ hadn't meant that.   


  
Though he was never sure where their relationship stood in Dominic's eyes, he often imagined how they must have been as a couple. Strangely, it wasn't a hard image to conjure up. He never thought about it too hard - it confused him - but he _did_ know two things. Firstly, as a person, he liked Dominic a lot, and secondly, that had nothing to do with the fact that he was pretty much the only person he had left. He really, genuinely liked him. In actuality, if he was truly honest with himself, he couldn't bring to mind a person he'd rather have at his bedside each day.  


  
Why this meant he had to act like a complete cunt to that person, Matthew had no idea.  


  
Maybe he just _was_ a cunt.  


  
Falling back into the pillows, Matthew whined softly to no one in particular, letting guilt and worry gnaw at his insides before he fell asleep. His dreams were full of dangerously careening wheelchairs that swerved out of control, weaving impossibly through heavy traffic. The last thing he saw before the truck collided with his chair was Dom standing on the pavement, wiggling his fingers in the air. "Look," he mouthed, "No hands!"  


 


	18. Chapter 18

  
"You're going to need to sort your shit out, you know."

  
Morning light drew a distorted square of light on the wall opposite the ward's window, painting it with an orange tinge. Matt watched as the shadow of Chris' head shifted against it, followed by the silhouetted sweep of sheets as they were thrown back over his body.  


  
"I know," he said to the nurse's shadow.  


  
"He's not going to come back every time you apologise. I know it's difficult and it's not your fault that you keep losing your temper, but-"  


  
_"I know_ , I know," Matt sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. "Believe me, a sleepless night gave me all the time I needed to think this through."  


  
"And stop pretending to be asleep at night."  


  
"Sorry."  


  
Chris squeezed his shoulder before bundling the dirty sheets into a bin and dragging it to the door. "He's in my office. Give me a call when you're done talking, okay? We can take out your tube today."  


  
Swallowing nervously, Matthew felt his insides churn, and for some reason he couldn't tell if it was in anticipation of the conversation or the removal of his feeding tube. He stared at the patch of the space in the doorway that Chris' face had previously occupied, breathing faster, silently, endlessly and rapidly rehearsing every possible sentence he wanted Dominic to hear.   


  
The moment the blonde rounded the corner and they found themselves face to face, Matthew felt the words stick in his throat. His lips parted and then closed again. Dom leant against the doorframe, arms folded, but he looked more exhausted than hostile. More upset than bitter.  


  
"What did you want to say?" he asked. The question was spoken simply and shortly, and was followed by pursed lips.  


  
Matthew wasn't even sure anymore. His eyes shut and he hung his head, shaking it slightly before stilling himself.   


  
"No? Nothing?"  


  
It was only when his hands came up to cover his face that Dominic realised he had started to cry.  


  
The morning sunlight seemed to turn cold in the room, everything freezing into an uncomfortable, silent tension that was only punctuated by the occasional sniffle from the bed as Matt hid behind his fingers, visibly shrinking in on himself, his shoulders hunched over. Dom scratched at his arm awkwardly, glancing left and right down the corridor behind him. There's nothing that'll make you feel like a cunt like guiltily watching someone in a hospital bed cry while refusing to come to their side.  


  
"For fuck's sake," he murmured, and Matt heard the slam of the door closing. His head snapped up in fear in the same second that he was smothered, his face suddenly buried in Dom's chest, and he felt arms close around his back.   


  
A tiny cry of surprise escaped him; he was held tighter, the soft warmth of Dom's breath against his hair as he was quietly hushed. Relief and shock at the kindness flooded his heart and Matthew found himself crying harder, clinging on and breathing deep.  


  
"I'm so sorry," he managed to choke out into Dom's tshirt, and he felt a hand cup the back of his head and a gentle kiss land on one of his temples before he was squeezed tight and shushed again, cradled and safe. "You're not a creep, Dom, or a stranger, I _promise,_ I was-"  


  
"It's okay," Dom whispered into his hair, rubbing one hand up and down Matt's spine.  


  
"It's _not,"_ Matt said angrily. His fingertips clutched at fabric, unable to tell if they were bedsheets or clothing. "I feel _awful,_ Dom. Fucking _awful_. I don't even know why you came back."  


  
"Because I love you," came the muffled answer, and even though it was a vague mumble, Matthew could hear the loneliness behind it.   


  
"Did I love you before?"  


  
Dom's hand stilled and he sat back a little, wincing from where the barrier at the side of the bed had been digging hard into his stomach, and confused at the question. Matthew's face had turned solid and serious despite the tears clinging to his eyelashes.  


  
"Yes."  


  
"I mean, _really_ love you."  


  
He nodded quickly and swallowed. Matthew's hands had slid to take his.  


  
"I've never been in love, Dom. Not like you are," he gestured at the other man, "not like you've loved me."  


  
"You said I was your favourite person you'd ever been with," Dom lowered his gaze, feeling Matt's thumbs stroking at the backs of his hands.  


  
"You must have been my first," Matt whispered, letting go for a moment to shyly brush a tear away before it could fall. "My first love and I'll never even remember what it was like."  


  
"No girlfriends?"  


  
"None that special. Fun, and everything - I mean, wonderful," he sniffled, snatching a tissue from the bedside table, "but no, never in love. And if I carry on the way I am, I'm about to drive the only person I've ever loved out of my life." He blew his nose and coughed pathetically. "And _that's_ why it's not okay."  


  
Dominic lay a hand on Matthew's cheek, tilting it up just enough to meet his gaze, and smiled down at him.  


  
"You're so weird," he whispered. "And you're going to see that as a bad thing, but it's the most wonderful thing to be in the world, you know. If you were made up of the slightest shred of normal, you wouldn't be half as beautiful."  


  
Another tear fell, but it was caught by Dom's thumb at the corner of a helpless smile. "I want to catch up with you," Matthew said softly, his breath hitching in his chest halfway through the sentence.  


  
"...Catch up?"  


  
"Where you are, where you love me, and where I loved you," Matt answered, and his eyes were filled with the familiarly naive determination that Dom loved him for. "I'm so far behind, and I'm going to hurt you again, and I can't promise anything, but all I want is to try. If I didn't, I just think that you know - in the future - I could never forgive myself for giving up on you."  


  
The sunlight shone down on the bed, pooling in the dips and folds of the bedsheets as Dominic took Matthew into his arms, his mind failing to even register the deep red welt that the barrier carved into his side as he leaned down. He felt a little giggle shake through the body pressed against his and giggled back, laying Matt down onto his pillows. Letting go, Dom leant back and bent down to inspect the barrier, fiddling with the plastic handles by the side and only pausing to shrug off his leather jacket onto the floor.  


  
"Wh- what're you doing?" Matt asked confusedly. His voice was even more mumbly than usual, dulled by his running nose, which he wiped on a new tissue.   


  
"Getting these off," he answered, pulling the barrier away and laying it on the table before flapping his hands, motioning for Matthew to move over. "Come on, shift."  


  
Struggling sideways, Matt shuffled to one side without hesitation. He chewed his lip nervously before his hands closed on the edge of his blanket, uncertain about lifting it to welcome Dom in, but the other man shook his head and climbed in carefully to leave the bedclothes between their bodies.  


  
"One step at a time," he grinned, hearing an answering snuffle of laughter from somewhere beneath his chin as Matthew burrowed into his chest. Dominic looped one arm tightly around Matt's slim waist, feeling out the hard, solid planes of his body beneath the covers, and smiled as each stroke and squeeze of the tiny figure in his arms elicited happy whimpers and sniffles as Matthew stopped crying. At first, the awkward, teary hiccups lessened in frequency, and soon they ceased altogether.   


  
Dom was sure his heart could be heard pounding through the thick blanket. It hammered against his ribcage despite futile efforts to calm his body, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, but it was impossible to relax when he could feel Matthew wriggling against him from head to toe for the first time. He had never lain beside him, much less felt long, slender fingers absentmindedly twitching and playing against his neck as the smaller man instinctively wormed closer.   


  
Matt _wanted_ to be closer.   


  
A helpless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, which he buried in the dark strands of hair just below his lips. Matthew was alive and happy and he _wanted_ him. Maybe things weren't happening the way he'd expected, but perhaps - _maybe_ \- that didn't mean they couldn't happen at all.  


  
Wrapped up in the warmth of each other, they lay in a close, contented cuddle until the patch of light on the wall had slimmed into a bright line as the morning wore on. Matt didn't remember falling asleep, but he found himself waking with his face nuzzled into Dom's chest, almost in his armpit. The scent there was mostly the generic musk of anti-perspirant, but behind it was something comforting and inexplicably familiar.  


  
Fingers teased through his hair and Matthew stirred, gazing blearily out at the room and struggling up from the warm patch he'd been nestled in.  


  
"You snore," Dom told him.  


  
"Mmph."  


  
"And kick. And drool, actually."  


  
Matt blinked down at the dark patch on Dominic's tshirt. It lay directly below where his mouth had previously rested. Bringing his hand up to rub at his face, he felt the tracks and grooves where fabric had pressed into his cheek.  


  
"That doesn't sound like something I'd do," he mumbled, flopping back down into the bed. It was only then that he heard a clattering noise behind him and noticed they were not alone.  


  
"Oh, no, don't get comfortable again," he heard Chris say, preceding a firm prod in the back that made him yelp. He couldn't see it, but the nurse was gazing down at the two of them with an expression that just about resembled pride. "Come on. Let's get the tube, and then you need something to eat, and we can have a go at wheeling you to the toilet."  


  
Groaning into Dom's chest, he reluctantly rolled onto his back and tugged his fingers through his hair with frustration.  


  
"I'm so done with my digestive system. Fuck guts."  


  
"Nice." Dom clambered sideways off the bed.  


  
"No, I'm serious. In the future, we're going to get rid of guts altogether, I think. Too many weird little tubes. It's just an accident waiting to happen. Bums should be for touching and maybe putting things in, and not much else."  


  
Chris coughed uncomfortably and moved around the bed with a trolley before pulling out a pair of latex gloves. They snapped against his wrists. Matthew's sheets were peeled back to his hips.  


  
"Dom, can you bring Matt some comfy clothes next time you come over?"  


  
"Yeah, of course."  


  
"Perfect. You should probably get used to clothes if you're going to be getting in the wheelchair. Anyway, it won't be long before you start learning to walk."  


  
Matthew's eyes lit up. "Cool. I'm starting to get bored of being naked, and that is _never_ a good sign."  


  
Chris nodded in serious agreement, pulling back the tape that covered the tube coiling out from his belly. Flinching as the plastic of the gloves slid across his abdomen, Matt watched as Chris eased the rubber stopper away from his skin and slid it off the tube, knowing that an identical rubber stopper lay against the wall of his stomach, and also knowing that it was about sixty seconds away from being forcibly pulled out through a hole about a third of that size.  


  
"Sit back a bit, Dom," Chris warned. He lay out a towel across Matthew's belly, just below where the tube poked out, and folded it to cover as much of the pale skin as possible. "You might get splashed."  


  
" _Splashed?_ " Matt exclaimed, eyes shooting wide with panic and his head jerking up from the pillow.   


  
Dom hushed him and lay a hand to his forehead, easing him back into the bed and gently thumbing the skin there. He could feel Matthew beginning to break into a sweat. The grip on his hand was tight enough that his fingers had paled and he could feel the other man's pulse thrumming against his own.  


  
"Sometimes there can be splashing," Chris told him. Matt's eyes flicked nervously to the gauze lying on the trolley, ready to cover the hole as soon as it was opened up. "Or oozing, or leaking, or - not _much!"_ he added quickly as Matt let out a worried groan. "It's just in case, that's all."  


  
"I think just do it," Dom muttered, stroking Matt's hand. "Go on, get it over with."  


  
"I've changed my mind," Matt said hurriedly. "I never want to eat again anyway. I'll keep the tube."  


  
"I'll count down from three."  


  
"Five?"  


  
"Three."  


  
" _Ten?_ "  


  
Chris steadied his hands, gripping the tube just above where it disappeared into Matt's body. "Two. One."  


  
He pulled, hard, tugging the plastic upwards. It resisted for a couple of moments, stretching hard and pulling at Matt's insides before coming free with a loud snapping sound. Matt let out a tiny cry, whimpering and curling in on himself slightly as the rubber stopper was forced through; the pain faded quickly and he collapsed back into the pillows, breathing shakily, relief written across his face.  


  
"That's it, you're alright," Chris reassured him, pressing the gauze to the hole as Dom leaned in to stroke Matthew's fringe back from his forehead with his free hand. Matt leaned into the contact and concentrated on controlling his breathing, eyes closed, relinquishing his vice-tight grip of Dom's fingers. "It'll close up pretty fast, but I'll come back and change the dressing in a few hours."  


  
"Yay," Matthew giggled weakly, not bothering to open his eyes.   


  
"You... alright?"  


  
"Yep," he answered. "It's like taking a shit."  


  
Chris nodded hesitantly before heading for the door, apparently uninterested in waiting for an elaboration.  


  
*  


  
The rest of the day was relaxed, with Dominic only leaving briefly to find a pack of sandwiches from a nearby petrol station for dinner. They ate side by side, the hole in Matthew's belly already closing well. He had a dish of apple slices and cheese, which he could usually get from the plastic plate to his mouth without dropping bits all over the space in between. His grip and the steadiness of his hands had massively improved in the last week.  


  
Matt lay back into his pillows when he was finished, sipping at a cup of water and looking up at the telly. There was something disturbingly compelling about the Jeremy Kyle Show.  


  
_"No, he's been cheating on me before, I know that, but he said we've only been serious since September."_   


  
_"So you've been together five years and had - three? - children? And he's only just decided this is a serious relationship?"_   


  
_"Yeah I know that, but, you know, he's only cheated towards the beginning. And the middle."_   


  
"We need a good old fashioned apocalypse," Matt rolled his head to one side lazily. "Like, a bit meteor strike, or something, and kind of wipe out half the population. Cut out lots of the stupid."  


  
"That's horrible," Dom grinned, pulling out a stray slice of tomato from his sandwich before it fell onto his lap.  


  
"Like in Deep Impact. I think it was Deep Impact, with the big mountain caves, and they chose loads of people to go and live in them while the meteor hit, and no one over the age of fifty could go in. Except we'd have to regulate it more. Like, there'd be a test that eliminated arseholes and morons and that kind of thing," Matt thought aloud, "and it'd be - no, wait, that'd be rubbish."  


  
"I wouldn't want to live in a world without the elderly, actually," Dominic spoke through his sandwich. "Cool old men sitting outside their houses smoking pipes. Friendly old grannies running charity shops." He swallowed the mouthful. "Your plan's crap."  


  
"There was some theory where there was this secret order," Matt continued, holding up his cup of water and squinting so that it distorted Jeremy Kyle's face into a giant, stretchy blob of flesh, "and they were going to gas the whole world and hide the future human race under an airport in Denver. The Queen bought bits of it or something."  


  
Dom turned his head to the side, fixing Matt with a skeptical smile as he finished the last bite of his sandwich.  


  
"What?" Matt asked defensively. He turned so that his glass was in front of Dominic's face instead, giggling stupidly as the blonde's nose stretched across sideways and his lips warped. Dom took the glass, wrestling it from his fingertips and ignoring his protests.  


  
"Twat," he grinned, grabbing the remote and switching the television off. "Where's the Lego?"  


  
The Lego had been Chris' idea, and Dom had brought it a few days ago to help Matthew practice at improving his dexterity. It had been sitting in his wardrobe ever since he moved out from his parents house, and wasn't in much of a state worth selling. It lived in a plastic storage box that still bore long-faded stickers that had been haphazardly slapped onto the side when he was six years old. Most of them were dinosaurs but there were a couple of planes as well. Occasionally two of the stickers had been juxtaposed to create an image of a tyrannosaurus rex sitting astride a 747. Dominic had been an artistic child.  


  
"Under the table." Matthew sat up properly.  


  
Dom leant down and spotted the box, pulling it out and dropping the lid to Matt's lap as a makeshift table. The green base piece went next, topped with the masterpiece that they had both been working on over the last day or two.  


  
"Fucking hell," Matt whined, his hand diving straight into the building and knocking over an upper balcony on its path to right a chair on the lower level. "The flight deck's a right mess."  


  
"I think it's too small. Needs more rooms."  


  
"You can't just clip on another room like getting a fucking extension or a conservatory, it's a spaceship!"  


  
"Yeah, exactly," Dom answered, repairing the upper balcony, "so we need crew and living quarters and stuff. At the moment it's just like hey, guys, here's the cockpit-"  


  
"Cock."  


  
"-and here's a toilet-"  


  
"Spaceships need toilets."  


  
"-and I reckon _here_ , we need beds and things."  


  
Matt gave the space Dom's hand was indicating a long, contemplative nod before pulling at the wall beside it, beginning adjustments to add in living quarters.  


  
"It doesn't need to be that big, Dom," Matt stopped him, his hands trembling uncontrollably as he tried to push a door into place. While it was horrible to watch him struggling with such a simple task, Dominic calmly let him persevere until it slotted in.  


  
"No?"  


  
"Nah, this is our spaceship," he grinned, closing off the living quarters and placing lightsaber-esque lamps in the corners. "I fly us around to different planets and you make endless pancakes. To eat. In the... in the pancake laboratory."  


  
"What?"  


  
"Need a pancake laboratory," he muttered to himself, sectioning off an empty corner of the flight deck. "Get me something that looks like an oven. And a bed. We need places to sleep."  


  
Dominic delved his hand into a cascade of bricks in the box, digging with both hands, seeking out something that could vaguely pass as an oven, and then finding a bed. He handed both to Matt and watched as the pancake laboratory was furnished before letting his fingers trail into the box for the second bed. He was just about to close his hand around it and pass it over when Matthew happily placed the bed squarely in the centre of the room, leaving no space for another. The bed slipped from Dom's fingers and back into the sea of bricks with a quiet clacking sound.  


  
"Have you got any people?" Matt grinned, peering into the box. "Get out all the people."  


  
A few minutes later they were sat looking at a mismatched group of five Lego men and one Lego woman, though the only indication of her gender was her bright red lips which, Matthew pointed out, could just make him a cross-dresser.  


  
"You need to be this smiley one," Matt insisted, pulling the head off one of the figures. "And I need the black hair because there's only one with black hair."  


  
"In the absence of blonde hair," Dominic chewed at the inside of his mouth thoughtfully, "I'm having the helmet. It'll be a space helmet. I'll put a visor on it. You're having this face because its mouth is all wonky."  


  
"Wanker. You have the yellow shirt."  


  
"I _like_ the yellow shirt."  


  
"What colour do you want our door to be? Because I just found a red one."  


  
"Red or what?"  


  
"Green." Matt held it up.  


  
"Ugh! Red, definitely. To match our bed."  


  
Matthew shot him a wonky grin, one crooked tooth sticking out as he adjusted the room. For some reason, the way Dominic's cheeks had coloured slightly brought a tingling happiness to his stomach.  


  
"Dom," he said, sitting back into his pillows and looking at the spaceship, "can I ask you something?"  


  
"Mmm?"   


  
Grey eyes snapped to his, and Matt stared back, refusing to let his nerves show through. "Can I come home with you? When I'm better?"  


  
Dominic's lips parted ever so slightly and he shuffled awkwardly in his seat. "I... er-"  


  
"Instead of moving in with Simon's place in London, I mean," he said quickly. "I mean, he'll always be away, and I'd much rather hang around with you than myself, you know?"  


  
He was met with an all too obviously forced smile. "I don't know," Dom answered. "My house is... it's pretty much two rooms. It's a hallway full of shoes, and a bare kitchen, and a tiny bathroom, and a bedroom where the bed is just this old, shitty mattress on the floor. You really would be happier staying at Simon's."  


  
Matthew smiled quietly and wrung his hand to shake the tremors from his fingers before pressing the space helmet onto Dom Lego Man and settling it down into the bed beside Matt Lego Man.   


  
"No, I wouldn't."  



	19. Chapter 19

"What're you doing?" Dominic asked, dropping his bag to the floor and flopping onto the bed beside Matt.

  
"Spots," he muttered, switching hands with the mirror to get a better angle with his left hand.   


  
"Spots?"  


He frowned, pouting slightly as he successfully squeezed one on his cheek. "Yeah. Apparently my body's gone and thrown a tantrum because _urgh, urgh, he's eating real food, urgh,_ " he whined in a high pitched voice, flapping his free hand, "and my entire face is exploding."

  
"Nice."  


  
"I know. Passes the time though." He screwed his face up, pinching somewhere just under his hairline. "Ugh. I _heard_ that one."  


  
"Idiot," Dom smiled fondly, leaning down and kissing the top of his head quickly. While Matthew's typically ashen complexion had gained some healthy colour over the last couple of weeks, there were now red patches scattered over his cheeks from where he had been picking at the skin there. Even while pulling faces into the mirror and prodding angrily at his own face, Dominic maintained there was something inexplicably beautiful about him.  


  
"Dom! Dom, look at the _pus_ from that one!"  


  
Beautiful was probably being generous.  


  
"That's nice," he said, taking the mirror away and dropping his rucksack into Matthew's lap instead. The smaller man winced in anticipation before realising that despite the way the bag's contents strained against its zip, it wasn't particularly heavy at all.  


  
"What's this?" He leaned forward, prodding at it suspiciously.  


  
"Clothes."  


  
"For me?"  


  
"Of course for you," Dominic rolled his eyes, pulling the zip open. "Even the tramp living in the lower floor of the car park is dressing better than you are at the moment."  


  
Matthew gleefully delved into the bag, ignoring Dom's warnings - "don't get excited, it's nothing special" - and snatching up a pair of soft cotton tracksuit trousers.  


  
_"Yes,"_ he declared, peering up one of the leg holes. "I shall do well in these."  


  
Dom raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips in a restrained smile, pulling out the next items of clothing. A pack of boxers. Two baggy tshirts: one black, and one a faded grey with the Marmite logo on the chest. A pair of socks and, at the very bottom, a pair of shabby red Converse.  


  
"Sorry, the shoes and the tshirts from a charity shop, but they've been through the wash, honest," he apologised, dropping his much emptier bag to the floor. "Well, the shirts have. Not a lot I could do for the shoes. They're your size, though."  


  
Matt didn't seem at all put off by their condition, happily inspecting each item of clothing in turn.   


  
"I want to get into them," he grinned, picking out an outfit consisting of the blue stripy boxers and the Marmite tshirt. "I have to have a shower anyway. Haven't showered in ages. Can you get Chris?"  


  
There was the briefest flash of awkwardness as Dom noticed Matt's eyes flick to the wheelchair and they simultaneously cast their minds back to the last time Matt had needed to be moved in and out of his bed.  


  
"Course," Dom smiled, moving to slide off the bed.   


  
A bony hand shot out, coiling around his waist and tugging him back. Matt wound both of his skinny arms around his middle and clinged on, quietly hugging him with a silent smile stretching over his face.  


  
"Thanks for the clothes," he mumbled happily before letting go, releasing Dom to fetch Chris.   


  
His hands twisted nervously in the sheets and his foot tapped up and down as he realised that Dominic hadn't returned the hug. While he was sure he was probably overthinking things, he still felt a lurch of worry. It was strange, he thought, that while Dom's feelings for him ran undoubtedly deeper than his for Dom, he often found himself seeking affection. He was usually the one who initiated cuddles or welcomed contact between them.  


  
He supposed it came down to his trust in Dom. It had taken no more than one conversation for him to be utterly convinced that Synapse had happened and that everything he had been told could be trusted. Actually, it had taken no more than one sentence.  


  
_No one_ knew about the time he'd taken a shit in the hedge at Ghost House.  


  
Matt thumbed the blanket and jumped slightly as the door was nudged open, Chris wandering in first, laughing at something another nurse had said in the hallway. The door swung closed without anyone else entering the room and he slumped down a little into the mattress.  


  
His fingers clutched tight onto the small bundle of clothes as Chris slid him into the wheelchair, a little shiver running through him as his thighs came into contact with a cold metal strut. The transfer was far less complicated than it had been when he had been full of tubes, and he flexed his feet out in front of him as Chris pushed the chair forward.  


  
"I'm going to leave you to it this time," the nurse told him.  


  
All thoughts of Dom tumbled out of his head. "Y... what?"  


  
"I reckon you can cope," came the reply, the chair swinging into the en suite bathroom. Matt felt the wheels bumping slightly over the tiles as the texture of the floor changed. The light in here was more blue than orange and it was slightly muted. He liked it. Despite the paraphernalia surrounding the room to make it more accessible for the disabled and people who like practicing pull-ups while on the toilet, it felt a lot more like a bathroom in a house he might conceivably own than a bathroom in a hospital. "I'll fold the seat down and get you in there, and you can switch the shower on yourself, okay?"  


  
"What if I fall off the chair?" Matt asked. "And then drown?"  


  
Chris eyed the shower floor, which wouldn't allow more than half an inch of water to gather in the tray before it would drain away. "If you find yourself drowning, shout, and I'll be waiting right outside to dive in and rescue you. Maybe throw you a life ring. Unless you want me to wash you again?"  


  
Matt shook his head immediately, dropping the pile of clothes onto a dry, covered shelf inside the shower before he was lifted into the chair. It was immediately cold to the touch and he yelped, crossing his arms over his chest and shivering. Shower gel and a towel was placed on the dry shelf to his left and soon he found himself sitting all alone in a deserted bathroom.  


  
"Do I just turn it on?" he yelled through the door, not waiting for an answer before prodding at the 'on' button. The shower spluttered for a moment before a cascade of cold water poured over his head. He shrieked.  


  
"It might be cold to start," Chris shouted through, "but it'll warm up within a second or two."  


  
_"Thanks a fucking bunch, you dick,"_ Matt spat, freezing water running down his face and plastering his hair to his scalp. His body twitched in the chair, indignation fuelling his anger despite the fact that the water was already a pleasant temperature. "What if I had a heart attack? What if I _died?_ What if I died and you got sued for malpractice, like the guy who tortured all those kids in that children's home?"  


  
"Matt?"  


  
He froze, staring at the closed door. _"Dom?"_  


  
"Who are you shouting at?"  


  
"Chris!"  


  
"Nope, he walked out, sorry mate. I just wanted to ask if you wanted anything from the vending machines."  


  
Matthew's thin arms slowly uncrossed from his chest and he blinked at the door, feeling warm water droplets weighing down his eyelashes. "Where did _you_ disappear to?"  


  
There was a pause from the other side of the door. He could see the shadows of Dominic's feet widen in the crack at the floor as he stepped closer, pressing his ear to the other side.  


  
"...When?"  


  
"Just now!"  


  
Another pause. "Just went for a piss. If you must know. Which you always do."  


  
"Oh."  


  
"Why?" He could practically hear the grin stretching across Dom's face. "Miss me?"  


  
_"No,"_ Matt shot back defensively, coiling up in his chair and sticking his chin out.  


  
"Do you want something or not?"  


  
His eyes lowered to his knees, one finger tracing the bony ridge where the joint stuck out from the frail limb around it. Pride was doubly hard to swallow when an apology had to be shouted through to an adjacent room over the noise of water crashing around your ears.  


  
"I want a Twix and a cup of tea. And for you to say sorry to Chris for me if you see him. And then for us to sit in bed together and hug and maybe play cards while we eat."  


  
"Okay. Back in five!" came the cheery response, and Matt watched as Dom's feet retreated from the bathroom door. He smiled absent-mindedly into the steam that was now rising around the room and tilted his head back. Hot water streamed over his face, running in wild, frantic lines over and between the contours of his cheeks and then down the column of his neck. Grinning helplessly, he felt it trickle into his mouth and dribbled it back out again with a gurgle.  


  
It was the first time he'd been left alone outside of his bed. Joy coursed through his veins at the sense of independence as he rubbed shower gel into his chest and hummed vaguely, taking his time, running his hands through his hair and raising his eyebrows at how long it had grown lately. Presumably it had been trimmed while he was in the coma, but since then the situation had definitely escalated. Out of curiosity, Matt pulled at his fringe and flattened it against his forehead, stretching it down to see how far it crept down his face. It covered his eyes but then came to a rest, tickling at his cheeks.   


  
Ugh. Maybe he'd have to get Dom to cut it.  


  
He frowned into the water.  


  
Or Chris.  


  
He frowned harder.  


  
He could always have a go himself. Or, you know, pay a hairdresser. Yes. That sounded about right.  


  
It was the longest shower of his life, not counting the one where he'd passed out slumped over in the shower cubicle and woken with a hangover, an empty hot water tank, and a pair of feet so shrivelled and sensitive from being in the water that he'd had to shuffle off to bed on his hands and knees. He wriggled happily in his shower chair. He washed three times. He wanked twice. He wrote his name on the floor in shower gel. He drew a picture of a dog into the steam on the screen of the shower door, then scribbled it out and wrote a message for future occupants of the room in the hope that it would re-mist. It said _'get well soon, shitlords xxx'_. At that point, he was forcibly removed from the shower and dried off by Chris, who then helped him into his new clothes and settled him down in bed.  


  
"Alright?" Dom dropped a Twix into his lap and wrapped his arm around Matt's waist. The smaller man cuddled closer, and he felt cold water drops from damp hair clinging to his cheek.  


  
Matthew said nothing, laying his head against Dominic's chest and nodding contentedly. Water seeped through the thin fabric of Dom's tshirt from damp locks of black hair, and soon he felt fingers brushing the heavy strands out of his eyes and back from his face. He grinned into the wrapper of his chocolate bar and leaned over to pick up a deck of cards from the table. They got through three games before he gave up, winding his arms around Dom's waist and resting against him while they watched television long into the afternoon.  


  
*  


  
"I'm definitely ready, yeah. Yeah. Let's do this."  


  
Matt felt the world lurch as he was helped to his feet. Though vaguely familiar with the sensation, he still felt his body protest, blood draining from his head, legs trembling with the strain of simply remaining vertical. The soles of his feet met a cold, plastic floor, and he flexed his toes against the linoleum. His skin crawled against its touch but it at least provided variety from the bedsheets.  


  
"Fucking hell," he muttered, uncomfortably aware of the weakness of his ankles. He was sure he had no control over which direction they took him in, and felt like they were about to buckle from underneath his legs and snap at any moment. His knuckles were a strained, painful white where he gripped at both Dom and Chris' shoulders. "You'd better be holding me, because I'm bloody well not."  


  
Dominic rolled his eyes, patting Matt's hand for reassurance. "You're not much to hold up, to be honest. I think we'll manage."  


  
"Can you put one foot in front of the other?" Chris asked, looking down at Matthew's legs. He had to bend slightly to the other man's height.  


  
One trembling leg slid forwards a couple of inches, followed by a couple more.  


  
"There. I did a step." Matt's tone suggested that his work for today was complete.  


  
"And the other one," Dom encouraged him, "don't worry, we've got you, you just need to-"  


  
Matthew's second leg slid until it was level with the first, his legs spread slightly wider than was usual. His knees suddenly crumpled and he yelped, instantly supported on all sides, though it took a moment for his shaking to calm enough to stand properly again.  


  
"This is dick," he declared. "My legs don't fucking work."  


  
"Yes they do," Chris told him firmly. "They work a hell of a lot better than some of the other people I see here. Do another step."  


  
"I _can't._ "  


  
"Get your foot to reach to there," Chris answered, toeing an imaginary line across the floor just under half a metre away, "and back to the bed, and we'll call it a day."  


  
_"I. Can't."_   


  
"Yeah you can," Dom said softly, pressing gently into the small of Matthew's back. "I've got you."  


  
"Dom, that's cute, but you can hardly lift a fucking chair. You're a twiglet."  


  
"Move your feet and stop being a whiny little bitch," Dom told him, changing tack. "You're not paralysed. It's only one more step."  


  
Matthew glowed with quiet pride as he settled back into bed that night having taken not one, but three more steps.  


  
*  


  
Chris flopped the crash mat down from its position propped against the wall, kicking it to the centre of the room. Matthew shuffled in his wheelchair, feet already kicking back and forth restlessly. He had come a long way in the last week. Beside the mat stood a pair of bars at waist height that he could use to support himself with his arms as he walked along.  


  
"Alright, line the chair up," he said, sitting forward in anticipation of standing up. "Let's just go for it."  


  
"Yeah?" Dom pushed him into position, locked the brakes on, and moved around to help him up.  


  
"Yep." Matt's lips tautened into a small, slim line. Dominic's hands gripped his arms tightly, guiding him to hold onto the bars and stand between them. "It's okay, you can let go."  


  
Matthew shuffled slowly between the bars; his fingers strained white against the metal, eyes fixed on the mat, Dom hovering anxiously until he was told to piss off. It only took about a minute for him to reach the mat, at which point he stopped and stared.  


  
"Perfect," Chris grinned.   


  
"Do I just sit down on it?"  


  
"You can if you like," he nodded, "take a break, try again in five minutes? Seriously, though, if you keep improving at this rate, I reckon you can go home in the next week or two."  


  
No further encouragement was required as Matt flopped down, letting his legs fold under himself and rolling happily onto his back. He smiled idly up at the ceiling and shut his eyes, letting the tingles in his legs dissipate as he rested.  


  
*  


  
"Come on," Dom grinned, bouncing slightly on the crash mat and adopting a high pitched voice, _"come on, Matt! Six more steps! Good boy!"_  


  
"Fuck you, you prick," Matt retorted, but his frown twisted into a toothy grin, which in turn slid away into an expression of intense concentration. A tiny, pink tip of tongue poked out as he took his next couple of steps. He had moved far beyond the bar supports.  


  
"That's it!" Dominic bent over and clapped near the floor as though encouraging a pet. Matthew paused between two steps to pull a face and stick two fingers up at him. "One more!"  


  
"That is _not_ one more."  


  
"Sure it is," Dom held his arms out to welcome him in. "With _those_ feet, _anything's_ about one step away."  


  
Matthew took one brave step upwards onto the mat and let out a yelp of triumph, which quickly became a shriek of laughter as he toppled forwards, lunging for Dominic and feeling arms close around his waist before they both crashed to the floor. They lay tangled, breathless and squirming, Dom coughing and Matt giggling hysterically, rolling away from each other. Matt barely had time to struggle to a kneeling position before he was offered a hand, which he held tight, pulled to his feet and then immediately steadied with two firm, solid hands at his shoulders. There was a silent moment of stillness where Dom's gaze lingered, soft with affection, and then he stepped away to drag the mat out ten paces in the opposite direction.  


  
"Again, go again. You've got this."  


  
*  


  
"Dom, no," he giggled, "no, I'm _sure_ we're not allowed to - _no,_ Dom - _no - no no NO-!"_  


  
The rest of Matt's sentence was cut off in a screech of terrified delight as Dom cackled with laughter, his feet coming down hard on the corridor floor as he broke into a run, the wheelchair squeaking slightly in protest as it was shoved forward, gathering speed. Matt's fingers gripped the armrests like his life depended on it and he began giggling madly, his eyes wide and excited as they careened past endless sets of doors. Their laughter and the pounding of Dom's shoes rang down the hall. As they sped towards a corner, Matt shrank back in his chair and yelled in delirious panic before clinging on tightly; Dom swerved wildly, panting and then pushing ahead again to race the empty corridor ahead.  


  
_"We're going to fucking die!"_ Matt screamed with an expression of manic joy.  


  
"Pussy," Dom gasped out, grinning and letting the chair veer violently off course just to hear Matt's panicked shriek in response before curving back away from the wall. He broke into another fit of giggles before preparing again to round a sharp corner. Feet hammered. Matt couldn't stop laughing.   


  
They lurched around the corner and immediately their expressions slid from glee to frozen horror.  


  
Dom pulled the wheelchair to a dead stop, leaving them silent and staring guiltily up at Chris. He did not look impressed. The taller man stared between the two of them.  


  
"I saw nothing," he said quietly, and stepped past them, the corners of his mouth twitching upward at the sound of Matt letting out another shrill peal of disbelieving laughter. As the sound of footsteps and giggling receded down the corridor, he realised that he'd miss the both of them after tonight. He'd have to keep in touch.  



	20. Chapter 20

Matt's kill count was now at twenty three. He sat up in bed, raising the crutch on his arm as Dominic walked into his ward, and pointed it squarely at the blonde, who turned to coolly face him with his hands in his pockets.

  
"Twenty four," Matthew muttered, making a noise like a gunshot and jerking his arm with the recoil.   


  
"That's the fifth time you've killed me."  


  
"So?" he shuffled sideways and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I've killed Chris more times than you. At least he has the courtesy to make a bit of a choking sound now and then."  


  
Dominic ran a hand over his face and picked up Matt's shoes, throwing them into the other man's lap. "Knew we shouldn't have given you the bloody crutches until the end of the day."  


  
Pulling the shoes on, Matthew wriggled his toes and tied the laces before staring around at the room.  


  
"This is it, then?"  


  
"Uh huh." Dom handed him the spare jacket he'd brought from home for Matt to wear over his tshirt on the way to the car. He'd been feeling anxious all day, but Matthew's absent-minded, wide smile was infectious, and he found himself grinning as he helped him to his feet and off the bed for the very last time. "Say goodbye."  


  
"Bye, bed," Matt sang, leaning on his crutches and beginning his strange, slow gait towards the door. "I _will not_ be missing you."  


  
"No?" Dominic pulled on his own jacket. His back felt strangely light without a bag strapped to it, but Matthew's belongings had been moved to his flat earlier in the day. He held the door open.  


  
"Nope. I swear, another week, and I'd have gone mental."  


  
The twisting path over pale floors and between equally pale walls was a quiet one, the silence only punctuated by the clacking noise of Matt's crutches against the floor as he hobbled along. Every time they passed an open door, he couldn't help his eyes flicking in to snatch a glimpse of the ward within. Lifeless faces. Lips hanging open. Tiny figures delicately wired to banks of lights and metal. His eyes were cast down, glancing at his footsteps. He thought about saying something, but there really was nothing to say about the figures in the beds when you happened to be leaving the building they slept in on a pair of functioning legs.  


  
Chris saw them out of the door. Matt demanded a hug; Chris grinned, wrapping his arms around his slim waist and ignoring the squeak of protest as he squeezed the breath from Matt's lungs, lifting him slightly off the floor before gently setting him down.  


  
"Best of luck."  


  
"Thanks!"  


  
"I meant _Dom,"_ Chris rolled his eyes. "You'll be fine. You're always fine once you stop complaining."  


  
Dominic snickered as Matt pouted in offense; he pulled Chris into a quick hug, checking that they both had each other's mobile numbers.  


  
The moment Matt stepped through the double doors at the front of the building, he felt the sting of freezing raindrops spit into his face, a tremor running through his whole body from the winter air. It was already dark, and the pavement glittered with water. His lips quirked into a delighted smile and he closed his eyes for a moment, tilting his head back to face the rainfall.  


  
"Come on, you twat, into the sodding car park," Dom nudged him, pulling a face against the weather and yanking the hood of his jacket over his head. He carried on a few paces with his trainers splashing in puddles on the tarmac when he realised that the clacking noise of Matthew's crutches was absent.   


  
He turned to see Matt contentedly smiling up at the sky, taking deep breaths of the fresh air. Beads of rain began to catch in his hair, and his battered Converse were already staining a darker red as the canvas soaked through from the sole up, his feet in a puddle.  


  
Dominic smiled and wandered back, swinging his legs in playful, slow steps. His fingers tugged at the strings of his hood; his hands hung from them, pulling the thing tight to the back of his head.  


  
"C'mon," he said, balancing his feet in a heel-to-toe tightrope walk on the lip of the pavement. "It's cold and your clothes are getting wet. Let's get in the car and we can go home and get some dinner together, yeah?"  


  
Matthew nodded enthusiastically, snapping out of his skygazing to beam at Dominic and step his crutches forward towards the car park. "Sounds good."  


  
"If you like," Dom told him, "we could go for a walk or a drive somewhere tomorrow. Out to a forest or something. Or the beach?"  


  
"I'd like that," he grinned, "yeah. I'd like that a lot."  


  
Aside from the slightly odd angle at which Matt had to lever himself to climb into the car without collapsing, the drive home was short and uneventful, which made a nice change from the last time he'd been in a car. He was oddly quiet; his eyes were wide and excited, jumping restlessly from roadsign to roadsign as he tried to spot landmarks or places he knew to work out where they were. When they pulled up, Dom helped him up and handed him his crutches.  


  
"Sorry," Dominic mumbled, twisting the key in the lock, "there are a couple of flights of stairs. No lift or anything."  


  
"That's alright," Matt smiled, "I can do stairs. You know. Slowly."  


  
"And the flat," Dom carried on nervously, "it's _honestly_ shit. I mean, _really_ crap."  


  
"It's _fine._ " Thin lips pursed in amusement.  


  
"No, it's - well, just don't expect much, okay."  


  
Stair after stair fell away behind Matthew's feet as he slowly took them one at a time, Dominic's hand in the small of his back, wishing there was a proper banister. It was a tiny, dark set of steep stairs, illuminated a dull orange from the streetlamp light that filtered through thick windows near the ceiling at the top of each flight. They looked like they hadn't been cleaned in a long time. Dom handed back the crutches on the landing and took out his keys to unlock the front door.  


  
Matt carefully stepped over the threshold as the door was held open for him, glancing down at the doorstep as he lifted his damp shoe over it.   


  
"Can I sit down somewhere?" he asked.  


  
"Left," Dom pointed, switching the lights on and taking off his shoes. "The kitchen's left; there's a chair by the counter. D'you want a hand?"  


  
"No, I'm fine," Matt answered happily, already exploring the corridor and emerging into the kitchen, where he settled at the stool by the island counter in the centre of the room. "I can help cooking, if you like. That sounds like fun."  


  
Dom wandered into the room, running a hand through his hair and pulling his jacket off to hang on a peg stuck in the wall. "It's alright, I figured we could just get a take-away. Is that okay?"  


  
Matthew's lips parted and he gazed adoringly up at Dom before biting his lip and nodding.  


  
Grinning widely, he hoisted himself onto the countertop - he only owned one chair - and pulled out his phone. "What kind of food do you want?"  


  
"Oh, fuck," Matt groaned. His eyes glazed over and he stared into space for a moment before snapping back into focus again. "Pizza? Just a pizza? Maybe covered in meat?"  


  
Dom scrolled through his contact list and lifted the phone to his ear. Twenty minutes later, they were both pulling warm pizza slices out of a cardboard box. Matthew stuck his tongue out to catch a foot-long string of cheese that trailed from his slice before making eye contact with Dominic and freezing where he was, tongue stuck out, cheese now draped over the tip of his nose.   


  
Matt was the first to break the silent stare, bursting into giggles; fingers brushed his nose as Dom swept the cheese off, choking with laughter on his own pizza.  


  
"Idiot," he giggled.  


  
"When are you going to realise how unattractive I am?" he answered, screwing his face up and rubbing at his nose with his sleeve.   


  
Dom's laughter died in his throat, and a second had passed before he realised it was already too late to cover it up. Still smiling, he bit at the tip of his tongue and shrugged before taking another slice of pizza.  


  
"Hey," Matthew murmured, surprisingly gently. Dom felt a hand rest on his arm. "Cheer up. Isn't this _technically_ our first date?" The corners of his mouth twitched into a mischievous smile. "Y'know, dinner at your place?"  


  
"Is it?"  


  
"I don't think the hospital really counts as an appropriate place to take your boyfriend on a date, do you?"  


  
Dominic chewed thoughtfully at his pizza, tilting his head to one side in consent.  


  
"So how's that going?" he asked Matt. Deliberately casual. "The whole 'catching up' thing?"  


  
"I'm not trying." Matthew grinned and looked down; while his face didn't actually colour, he looked for all the world like he was blushing. "It's like falling asleep, or playing piano, or - or getting comfy on a bike. It comes much easier when you don't try. I'm scared that if I try then I'll mess it up."  


  
His voice had slipped lower to confess the last sentence and his hand twitched before he smiled quickly and buried his mouth into the last of the pizza, cramming it in to make conversation impossible.  


  
Dom squashed the empty pizza box down into the recycling bin and began wiping crumbs from the table top while Matt clambered to his feet, pausing for a moment and hanging onto the edge of the stool for support before walking slowly through to the hall.  


  
"The room's upstairs," Dominic called after him.  


  
_Crawling up the stairs certainly makes it more fun_ , Matthew thought, padding up towards the top floor on his hands and knees. His neck was craned up to peer over the landing. _I'm going to make a point of doing more crawling in the future. Crawling's good._  


  
He emerged in Dominic's bedroom to see it exactly as he'd pictured it in his mind's eye - small, but not so small that the double mattress took up most of the room. It sat in the corner opposite a wardrobe and beneath a ceiling lamp on a dimmer switch. The dark blue sheets were immaculately made; Matt's lips twitched with amusement. He was ninety nine percent convinced that they weren't _usually_ made. Also, they were _his_ sheets. A black and white set of pillows and a duvet were folded on the floor, presumably forming what Dom nobly but stupidly thought was where he would sleep tonight.   


  
"You're not sleeping on the bloody floor," Matthew called down as soon as he heard the sound of footsteps ascending stairs.  


  
"Seriously, I don't mind," Dominic answered, walking into the en suite bathroom to change. "I've slept on plenty of floors. I mean, you're kind, and everything, but no."  


  
"Fuck off and get in the bed, Dom," Matt sighed, crawling over to the mattress and slumping over on it, burrowing beneath it until the only thing Dominic could see of him through the bathroom door was a heap of wriggling blanket and a pair of wildly kicking legs. "Also, this way we can do double-duvets. Fucking love double-duvets."  


  
Dom rolled his eyes and pushed the door closed, peeling off his clothes and moving to take an old, baggy tshirt from its place on a shelf by the towels. He was just preparing to pull it over his head when he paused and started to chew at the inside of his cheek in thought.  


  
It was going to be pretty warm in there, he thought. It was naturally quite a warm room and he only wore the tshirt and boxers in winter. Most of the time he just liked to roll around naked, but that clearly wasn't an option. Topless, though?   


  
Was that crossing a line? Would Matt mind?  


  
Christ, it's not like he was planning on shoving his dick down the man's throat. It was only _topless,_ for god's sake. And anyway, Matt never seemed to mind _anything,_ really.  


  
With that thought, Dom threw the shirt back on the shelf and returned to the bathroom door, one hand hesitantly on the door handle before pushing in. Matthew was knelt on the mattress and was dragging the second duvet on top of the first. The pillows had already been piled up around their heads, and everything he had been wearing except for his tracksuit bottoms were lying in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed.  


  
"C'mon," Matt huffed to the bed, toppling backwards as his ankles gave way. He sighed with satisfaction and Dominic couldn't help noticing the way his chest was rapidly rising and falling from the effort of tugging the duvet into place.  


  
"Your legs are doing really well," he smiled. He crossed the room and knelt down while Matthew pushed up the legs of his tracksuit to frown at the thin, frail things inside.  


  
"Come on, they still look like shit," he grunted, poking at where his ankle bone jutted out. "And they ache."  


  
"Come here," Dominic beckoned, leaning over and pushing the duvet away for a moment. "No, no. Lie down, idiot."  


  
Leaning back until he was propped up on the small mound of pillows, Matthew watched as Dominic moved down the bed and laid his hands on his legs. Warm palms closed in just to the outside of his knees before stroking down his calves, fingertips pressing gently in to seek out tension in his aching muscles.   


  
"Does that help?"  


  
Matt opened his eyes to glance down. "You don't have to-"  


  
"Let me," Dom told him, sending another stroke down his lower legs, this time towards their insides. Matthew squirmed delightedly and let his eyes fall shut again, lying completely comfortably back into the pillows as the aches were eased from his legs.  


  
The bed smelled strongly of Dom. And washing powder. But mainly Dom. He wasn't sure if he loved the smell because it just made him happy or because it wasn't the smell of the hospital bed, but he found himself rolling his head to one side so that his nose was half buried in the fabric. It smelled of arms closing around his waist, and kisses to the forehead when he found himself staring squarely at the other man's neck, and the times he had woken up halfway through a film with his cheek pressed into Dominic's chest.  


  
"Turn over," came a murmur from further down the bed, and he sleepily rolled onto his front. A blissful shudder ran up the backs of his legs and curled along his spine as he felt the softer backs of his legs being gently massaged.  


  
Matthew felt his breathing slow, gradually lapsing into a steadier and softer rhythm that seemed to match the pace at which Dominic's hands traced up and down his calf muscles. The slow burn of tired muscles had slipped into a warm glow of relief that spread slowly through his whole body. Dom's hands came away and then he felt the weight of two duvets fall over his back and around his shoulders. Snuggling deeper into the mattress, Matthew heard the flick of the light switch and felt the covers shift as the other man curled up beside him. For a moment, his brow furrowed with a twinge of frustration at the idea that he'd need to actively encourage physical contact yet _again,_ but then he felt strong, gentle arms slide around him - one behind his head, and one over his back, pulling him closer. He settled happily with his cheek pressed into Dom's collarbone and nestled into the soft skin there, relishing the heat of their bare chests melting together. Dominic's heart was pounding and he was breathing quickly.  


  
"Sorry," Matt heard him say, the word a low hum that reverberated through his chest. "This is just lovely. I'm sorry. I'll try and calm down."  


  
Matthew cracked open an eye and twisted in Dom's arms, one of his hands limply flapping, feeling its way along a warm shoulder and down an arm until his fingers found Dom's. He interlocked them together and laid a soft, slick kiss to his chest that left a tiny patch of moisture.  


  
"It's okay," he whispered. "M'so comfy. Just gonna fall asleep."  


  
Dominic listened to the sound of Matthew gently snuffling in his sleep for another thirty minutes before he could breathe evenly again. He buried his nose into the soft and slightly greasy mess of Matt's hair and hugged the tiny, wriggling figure close in the last seconds before closing his eyes and letting sleep take over.  


  
*  


  
It was while Matthew was standing in the pouring water of the shower and absentmindedly petting his dick that the idea occurred to him.  


  
Not that it was the first time the thought had crossed his mind. It had been bouncing around in his head for the several days he had spent living with Dom now, almost always in situations where it was utterly inappropriate, and never when there was anything he could do to explore his new curiosity.   


  
Dom's flat _was_ tiny. It only offered so much privacy.   


  
However, this was the first time he had been alone in the shower when he also knew Dominic wasn't actually in the flat. He was out buying eggs for a breakfast together, and the building was empty and silent save for the soft humming of the shower unit and the pattering of water.  


  
Matthew's free hand slid over his hip and then his bum, raising gooseflesh and a quiet shiver as his fingers ghosted over the sensitive skin. Strange shyness rose up but he squashed it down determinedly, letting his fingers retrace that path, closing his eyes and caressing the pale, soft curve. His hips rocked forward. Though he'd barely been touching himself for a minute, the nervous anticipation of what he was about to try had coils of excitement tightening in his gut, and his body was already tingling with arousal. He switched hands, wrapping the fingers of his left hand around his cock and teasing along its length while his right hand slid further back, his legs slowly and tentatively spreading.  


  
Apparently he'd enjoyed it once. Apparently.  


  
Biting his lower lip, he closed his eyes again and brought one trembling, wet fingertip to his hole. His body shuddered and he felt the place he'd touched spasm in response, but didn't take his finger away. He pressed gently but firmly, moving in a circle, exploring the rough ring and the soft, pink smoothness at its very centre before adding more pressure, closing in, his breath hitching and his head tilting back into the stream of the shower; his mouth fell open and he left out a soft, strained moan as he managed to slip the very tip of his middle finger inside.  


  
It was tight, and hot, and he could feel the walls of his body squeezing in on an intrusion even as slim as his finger. Matthew felt a glow of pleasure burning steadily in his belly, and was fairly sure it was as much to do with his right hand as his left. A little sigh escaped him, mingling with the steam of the shower. He probed slightly deeper and was rewarded with slick, warm sparks of delight from the finger inside him, gently curling, slowly slipping upwards. It was filthy and silky and unlike anything he'd ever done to himself in his life, and as his fingertip twisted brutally into the velvety wall at the front of his body, he hit a wave of pleasure and let out a helpless, bitten-back cry. His other hand frantically left his swollen cock to steady himself against the tiles of the shower wall. His eyes flew open and his legs trembled. Water poured hotly down his skin.   


  
"You okay in there?"  


  
Matthew actually felt his body clench inwards on his finger with shock as his head whipped around to stare in guilty, wide-eyed terror at the closed bathroom door. His chest heaved and, despite the surprise, he was still distracted by the blissful quivering that his finger was causing inside. He pulled gently, trying to slide it out, but his muscles resisted and the tension caused another thrill to shoot up his spine. Gasping, he shut his eyes and gave up.  


  
"...Matt?"  


  
Dominic actually sounded concerned.   


  
_Shit._   


  
"I'm fine!" he answered, far too brightly, and without fully managing to control the tremors in his voice.  


  
"...You don't _sound_ very fine."  


  
_Of course I don't_.  


  
Sighing loudly, he frowned at the tiles opposite him. "Fine. I'm wanking, you dick."  


  
There was a silence after that, and Matt found himself straining to hear past the running water, desperately curious as to how he'd respond.  


  
"Oh," Dom answered, sounding thoroughly amused.  


  
Matthew's wrist was aching from the awkward position bent between his legs and he shifted it, biting his tongue at the inevitable ripples the tiny motion sent through the hot, soft walls around his finger. "Anyway," he started, hoping the strain in the word would be somehow masked by the shower, "what are you even doing here? I thought you were going to be out?"  


  
"Forgot my wallet because I'm a tit. Is there a reason you need me to be out before you toss yourself off?"  


  
Matt groaned and leaned forward to knock his forehead against the tiles. It fucking hurt.   


  
"Maybe I'm not tossing myself off," he started, thudding his head into the wall again and pulling a face as he realised he was already regretting everything he was saying. "Maybe there's a finger up my arse, right, and maybe I want some space while I give it a go for the first time, because up until this point in my life it's kind of been a one-way system down there, you know what I mean?"  


  
Dom's hand froze where he had been running his fingers through his hair. He stared at the section of wall which he knew lay directly between him and the shower. The shower that Matt was currently fingering himself in.  


  
"...Are you even still there?"  


  
"Oh, yeah," Dom answered quickly, continuing the motion of tangling his hand in his hair. "Yeah, I'm here!"  


  
A dull thud echoed around the room, followed by another, and then another.  


  
"I dunno if you can hear that," Matt called, "but I'm banging my head against a wall right now."  


  
Dominic was unable to suppress a cackle of laughter. "Do you want me to leave you to it?"  


  
"Y- no! Well, yeah," he replied, the mumbling almost indecipherable through the water and the wall, "yeah, but y'know. I dunno what I'm doing here. If that makes sense."  


  
Rubbing his hands over his face, Dom stepped closer to the bathroom door and sat down with his back against it. "...Right? What, do you want advice?"  


  
"Yeah." Matthew actually sounded embarrassed.  


  
"Alright." Dominic smothered his grin in his hands before leaning back. "So what've you done so far?"  


  
"I dunno, it's up there," Matt shrugged with the one shoulder that he could afford to move. He was doing an excellent job of sounding nonchalant  considering he could now see the precome welling up at the very tip of his cock. Hot water trickled down his face and he bit his lip, testing a movement of his finger. It was still buried into that sensitive spot, and he began to massage the delicate, velvety wall with his fingertip. "There's - there's this one place," he said shakily, exhaling into the steam of the shower, "and that feels really good. But now I don't know what I'm doing."  


  
"Add another finger," Dom told him, instantly kicking himself for making it sound less like a question and more like a demand, despite the extent to which he liked that notion.  


  
"Which one?"  


  
"Which one are you using at the moment?"  


  
"Middle finger." Pause. "Right hand."  


  
A shiver ran through Dominic's body and he pressed his back harder into the bathroom door, silently mouthing the words 'oh my god' into the empty room around him. "Add your ring finger. It's at an easy angle so you can slide in a bit deeper, especially if you're standing up."  


  
"Of course I'm standing up. Have you seen this shower?"  


  
Dom silently waited for Matthew to stop stalling and do as he was told. "Be gentle. Make sure your fingers are nice and wet. Try spitting on them first, it works a bit better than water."  


  
Matt sounded thoughtful. "Is it okay to use shower gel as lube?"  


  
_"...What?"_   


  
"Can I use shower gel as lube? I mean, it's kind of slippy, and-"  


  
_"No!"_ Dom spluttered, rubbing his eyes. "No, don't... don't ever put soap up your bum. That's a ground rule."  


  
"Alright, bloody hell," Matt groaned, settling the shower gel back on its shelf. "See, this is why I need you here. I'll spit."  


  
There was a moment of quiet through the door as Matthew shut his eyes tight and slowly - ever so slowly - eased his finger out, arching his back and leaning against the tiles as it was finally released. He peered cautiously at it before taking the two digits into his mouth and sucking gently on them, laving saliva over and between them with his tongue until they slipped and slid against each other, fine strings of liquid clinging between them, and swiftly moved them down to press into his delicate, flushed opening.  


  
Dominic heard a definite whimper through the door and literally felt the sound go to his cock, which twitched and pulsed slightly in his jeans. There was no way he was going to get through this without wanking. Fumbling a little with shaking fingers, he unbuttoned his jeans and began stroking through the soft cotton of his underwear.  


  
"They're in," Matthew gasped, his breath uneven, "oh my _god_. I want them in deeper."  


  
"Just keep exploring," Dom told him, "don't stop moving your fingers, go back to the spot you found before."  


  
Matt groaned with clenched teeth as his left hand began moving up and down his cock again while his fingers delved deeper with a slick, tight sound. "It's _really_ good," he panted. "Feels so fucking _good,_ Dom."  


  
"Try your thumb," came the voice through the door, and Matthew's knees almost buckled at the thought. He pulled his fingers away with a filthy shiver and wet his thumb.  


  
It was slimmer, but something about its shape reduced his body to a quivering mess as he slipped it inside, letting the pad of his thumb rest against that fragile spot. He slumped sideways into the wall and began a rhythmic moaning, no longer at all bothered by Dominic's presence, each noise from his mouth rising in pitch, and some warping into soft whines when a flare of pleasure caught him by surprise. To his shock, he heard a sharp cry from the other room as Dom failed to swallow back what was undoubtedly the sound he made when he hit his orgasm, and Matt's head whipped around to stare at the door with his mouth hanging open.  


  
_Dom just jizzed because of me. Right there. In that room. While he taught me how to finger myself._   


  
Matthew's eyes rolled back and he shut them tight, finding the tremors running through his weak legs too powerful, and knelt down on the shower floor without shifting his thumb from where it was gently plugging his body, nestled comfortably in the tightest, softest, most delicate hole that he was now shocked he had never explored before. Long, pale fingers drew his orgasm out, slowly and tortuously pumping his cock at the same speed his thumb moved at. It was cruel and it was draining, but as he watched thick, creamy streaks of spunk splash down into the shower and gradually drain away down the plughole, he knew it was also the way he wanted to wank for the rest of his life.  


  
*  


  
Emerging nervously from the hallway and padding into the kitchen in a pair of black, baggy trousers and a grey hoodie that they had bought together the other day, Matt waved shortly at Dom before sitting down at the counter. Two plates of beans on toast lay on the side; Dominic grinned over his shoulder as he placed a fried egg on top of each one before adding sausages.   


  
He had left Matt to 'clean himself up', pulled on a clean set of underwear, washed his hands and dashed out of the flat to buy the eggs he'd failed to bring home earlier. It had taken about half an hour for Matt to recover to the point of being able to join him downstairs, by which time he had cooked breakfast.  


  
Five minutes later they sat opposite each other, stabbing egg and beans and toast onto their forks at an impressive pace. Dom was halfway through a mouthful when Matt spoke.  


  
"I want to get a dildo."  


  
Slowing down the rate he chewed, Dominic swallowed his food with a gulp and nodded almost imperceptibly.  


  
"I'll take you shopping this weekend."  



	21. Chapter 21

Slightly damp leaves skittered over the pavement, swirling across a mostly empty Islington back road and gathering in crisp, wintery heaps in the gutter, or trapping themselves between the windscreen wipers of parked cars. Glassy puddles had risen up around clogged drains. Tugging at his scarf, Dominic adjusted it to shield more of his neck from the chill of the air. Matt's crutches clicked noisily with every step.

  
"Anywhere else you want to go?" Dom asked him.  


  
Click. Click. Click.  


  
"Where's the sex shop?"  


  
"Just off Oxford Street."  


  
Matthew giggled manically at his feet before lapsing into silence again, considering the question. They rounded the corner onto a much busier street; Dom pointed him in the direction of the stairs that led downwards, below the road, and into Angel Underground station.  


  
"Yeah, can we go to Trafalgar Square? I fucking _love_ Trafalgar Square. It's my favourite bit of London."  


  
His stomach tightened painfully and Dom breathed out a sigh through his nose, face determinedly impassive. Matt was too busy navigating the stairs to notice. One of his hands held onto the railing, the other clutched his crutches.  


  
"I guess," he shrugged in response, "it's a little bit out of our way. Would mean a load more trains."  


  
"Nah," Matthew chirped, hopping down to the bottom of the stairs. "I can walk that, it's not as far as you think. Anyway, the station's on this line. We can just go straight there, you know? Have a bit of a walk?"  


  
Dominic bit his lip and then instantly switched to biting his tongue as Matt glanced over at him with bright, excited eyes.  


  
"Yeah! Of course. Charing Cross, then."  


  
Stepping onto the escalator, Matt turned around from the lower step to grin up at Dom, headbutting him gently in the middle of his chest. "You're tall."  


  
"You're weird," Dominic retorted, ruffling a hand through Matthew's hair.   


  
The deafening rattle of the train made conversation impossible all the way through to Charing Cross, where they stumbled out into a crowd of people on their way out to lunch breaks and midday appointments. Matt walked unaided down the platform. It was easier to walk slowly than it was to have countless people tripping over his crutches.  


  
The whole way through Trafalgar Square, Dom kept his expression even, focusing on keeping up conversation with Matt without giving away that his heart was aching. His eyes kept returning to the stone wall of the fountain where they had met. Though it was the last way he wanted to react, he felt nothing but bitter. A voice in his mind whispered that there was nothing stopping him from telling Matt all about it, but he silenced it immediately. There didn't seem to be any point. The things they had experienced together in Synapse had been beyond description; no combination of words could explain to Matt the way those moments had felt. He would never fully understand how it felt for the sun to sear down on his shoulders after their first hug beside the fountain, or the love poured into the world that he had imagined for them both.   


  
It was when he turned around to see Matthew squinting into the cold sunlight above Nelson's Column, smiling upwards with one arm raised to shield his face from the sky, that he felt the bitterness begin to melt away. It was that stupid grin; that one wonky tooth sticking out as Matt let his arm fall and turned on the spot, crutches hanging limpy from one hand, staring around the square and watching buses argue their way around the roundabout.  


  
"S'a nice day," he called over to Dom, watching the sunlight bouncing off the fountains as their streams shattered into tiny shards of water on the surface. "I mean, cold enough to freeze your balls off, but nice!"  


  
Dominic felt his face soften into a little smile and his chest relax. It wasn't about Matthew _remembering,_ and it wasn't about being in a relationship with him. He was lucky enough that the man was even alive.  


  
As though to cement the realisation in his mind, he thought back to the hours spent hunched over at Matt's bedside, staring into that pale, lifeless face, holding a limp hand, and desperately willing the _slightest_ movement - a twitch, or a deeper breath, or a little jerk of the fingers laced between his. Looking back up, Matthew was slightly crouched, advancing on a pigeon, crutch outstretched as a weapon. The pigeon tilted its head at him and fluttered several paces away; he leapt forward at it with an annoyed shout, waving his crutch in the air until it took off, flapping away in alarm towards the steps of the Gallery.   


  
He was just beginning to pester a second pigeon when he felt Dom's arms slide around his waist from behind.   


  
"Hello," he giggled, prodding at one of the forearms wrapped around his middle as Dom's chin found its place on his shoulder. "What's this?"  


  
"Just glad you're here," came a quiet, contented mumble from beside his ear.  


  
"Me too," Matt replied, turning his head to look at Dominic as best as he could. A little smile played over his lips. They shuffled towards the nearest statue - one of the lions atop a stone plinth - and spent the next fifteen minutes absentmindedly watching the passage of people through the square; commuters weaving and rushing and dodging groups of tourists as they milled aimlessly around, pointing cameras at things that didn't need to be photographed, and shouting at children to climb down off the huge stone ledges at the base of Nelson's Column. Matthew's thumb traced over the back of Dom's hand where it lay on his stomach. He ran it over the bumps of Dom's knuckles again and again, feeling the freezing skin, and then wound their fingers together to stay warm. The arms around his middle tightened slightly and he felt a tiny, alien thrill warm his belly.  


  
Eventually the cold won and they began the walk through London and towards Oxford Street, only needed to rest Matthew's legs once; sitting in Piccadilly Circus and watching traffic rush past the huge flashing, shifting adverts stretched across the screens. A man slumped against the corner of a building was playing the saxophone; each note was snatched away by the screech of a horn, or the roar of a bus pulling away from where it had recently dropped another crowd onto the pavement. Matt leaned against Dom's side and watched the busker until he was stopped by a policeman who wanted to ask what he was up to.  


  
"He's playing the fucking saxophone, you prick," Matt muttered, getting to his feet and picking up his crutches with one hand and a wry smile. He offered the other hand down to pull Dominic to his feet. "C'mon, let's get moving again."  


  
The shop lay on a side road that branched away from Oxford Street and into a quiet and often bypassed pocket of the city.  


  
"I've never been in a sex shop before," Matt giggled, slowing at the door. "Go on. You first."  


  
"Nice try, but I have to hold the door for you, so," Dom trailed off with a smirk, pushing the smaller man in the back and opening the door ahead of him. Matthew stepped up into the shop with a scowl that immediately turned into a grin as he abandoned his crutches by the door, shuffled towards the nearest shelf and began investigating the products lined up along it. Closing the door against the winter air behind him, Dominic followed him inside and awkwardly returned the smile of the man behind the till. He turned around to find Matt behind a stretch of shelving, wriggling his hands into a pair of lacy black fingerless gloves that reached almost to his elbow, where he had rolled the sleeves of his jumper up. Black ribbon criss-crossed over an open stripe running along the back of his arm, the stark white of his skinny arms constrasting against the fabric. The moment he had finished pulling them on then he giggled, wiggling his fingers, and then began picking up a pair of nipple tassles to play with.  


  
"Jesus Christ," Dom hissed through a burst of laughter, the sound much louder than he'd intended in the almost silent shop, "what the hell are you doing?"  


  
"D'you like them?" Matt giggled again, holding out one lace-clad arm. "I _like_ them. My whole wrist area feels sexy. Like a proper Victorian slut."  


  
Dom held back laughter and ran his fingers up and down the arm offered to him before flinging it away and screwing his eyes shut. "Fuck off, I don't need to be imagining you in black lace," he grinned, turning his attention to the shelf on his left.  


  
"Yeah you do," Matt stroked his fingertips down Dom's arm and cackled as the other man jumped, visibly shivering. "Alright, fine, I'll take them off."  


  
They wove in and out of the various displays, Matthew in the lead and looking fascinated with everything he picked up. It surprised him, but Dominic didn't feel the slightest bit awkward once he'd been in the store for a couple of minutes; he followed through an open doorway and found Matt staring at a small, deserted room which apparently made up the back of the shop. The walls were lined with sex toys.  


  
"Oh my god, it's got a suction cup," Matt whispered, leaping forward and picking up a slim red butt plug from the display. "Dom. Dom! Look!" He jammed the base of the plug into his forehead and whirled around, grinning manically. "I'm a dildicorn!"  


  
"Jesus fucking Christ," Dom collapsed with laughter, covering his face with his hands as Matt let out a whinnying noise and pawed the ground with one foot as though preparing to charge. He grabbed the nearest toy with a suction cup - black dildo, six inches - and stuck it to his forehead, lowering his head and squaring up to meet Matt's attack. Ducking aside, he lunged forward in a counter attack, which was blocked as Matt tilted his head to knock his dildo off course with the tip of his butt plug - Dom twisted and struck again. Both of their hands were behind their backs, neither wanting to cheat. It was a matter of honour.  


  
"Fuck you," Matt gasped, dodging yet another thrust, "you've got about three inches more than me, you dick, that's not fair-"  


  
"You started it - _ouch,_ fucker-"  


  
Matthew's wail of defeat lapsed into helpless snorts and giggles as his butt plug was finally dislodged, falling to the floor, where Dominic picked it up to place both toys back on their shelves, still shaking with laughter.  


  
"Okay," Matt sighed, resting his chin on Dom's shoulder and looking at the shelves, "okay, I'm concentrating. I'm honestly concentrating now."  


  
"So what are you looking for?" Dominic asked.   


  
"Nothing special, just something bigger, just to try it out," he answered, picking one up and poking at it to test the material.  


  
Dom wandered to the opposite side of the room and peered curiously at a row of toys. "Anal beads?"  


  
"Nah, like, a dick."  


  
"Vibrating?"  


  
His eyes immediately widened. "Shit, I didn't even think of that. Yes. I think yes. That sounds good. This one vibrates, actually, and it looks about the right size, come and look?"  


  
Abandoning his shelves, Dom returned to his side, looking down at the device held carefully in Matthew's fingers. His eyebrows raised.  


  
"Purple and glittery?"  


  
"Oh, who gives a fuck," Matt snapped, giggling. "It's not like I'm going to notice when it's stuck up there. And it's the right shape and _everything."_  


  
"Fine," Dominic snorted, picking one of the sealed boxes from the display and moving towards the tills. "But your less-than-convincing _'I'm not gay'_ argument is now well and truly void."  


  
*  


  
Crutches now clicking along the pavement once more, Matthew had handed the bag over to Dominic the moment they had left the shop, repeatedly thanking him in advance for the many millions of orgasms he was sure had just been purchased. A bottle of lube also lay at the bottom of the bag. They had passed Piccadilly Circus without stopping to rest his legs.  


  
"No, no, I'm fine," he'd insisted, nodding onwards at the road back towards Trafalgar Square. "Let's just get home."  


  
"Because you want to play with your new toy?" Dominic teased, smirking at the pavement.  


  
"Yes, because I want to play with my new toy."  


  
"Do you want me to suddenly remember a reason to leave the house for an hour or two? Because I can do that."  


  
"Thankyou," Matthew answered. "I'm very genuinely grateful. Can I use the bed?"  


  
_"...Use_ the bed?" Dom shot him a sideways look. Matt shrugged.  


  
"More comfortable than the shower. I don't know. Stop looking at me like that." He paused while checking both ways down the street as they crossed, stepping into Trafalgar Square. "I'm just checking you won't murder me if you find out I was in the bed."  


  
"You can use the bed," Dom snorted, slowing down for Matt as he navigated the busy steps down in front of the Gallery. "The sheets need washing anyway."  


  
"I might not even leave the bathroom. I don't know. Ooh, I'm excited," he bounced slightly, which was quite an achievement when leaning on crutches. A woman in a blue dress almost stumbled over him, apologising hurriedly before rushing away. "God, it's busy today."  


  
"Uh huh," Dominic nodded, eyes following something that had distracted Matthew. A whole class full of children were sitting cross legged on the floor and sketching a statue to their left.  


  
"George the Fourth," Matt nodded up at the statue, squinting into the sunlight. "Fat fucker."  


  
Matthew's whole body froze.  


  
The sound of the crowded square fell away. Blood rushed in Dominic's ears. His heart lurched, hammering against his ribcage.  


  
"Matt? What did you just say?"  


  
The blood drained from Matt's face so rapidly that the paling of his skin was almost a clearly visible transition. Where his cheeks had been flushed from the cold sunlight, they were now pallid. He slumped slightly into his crutches.  


  
"...Matt?" Dom asked, the word sharp with concern. He threw out one arm behind the smaller man's back, supporting him slightly.  


  
Matt stared blankly into the air before his face, his pupils mere pinpricks and out of focus.  


  
"I think I need to sit down," he said in a tiny voice. His knees shook. Dominic nodded, eyes wide, and began helping him backward about ten feet to the stone wall of the nearest fountain. Matthew was eased into a sitting position, crutches clattering to the floor as he dropped them with trembling, cold hands. One of Dom's arms stayed firmly behind his back, holding him upright out of fear that he would tumble back into the freezing water. The plastic bag lay forgotten at his feet.  


  
"Are you okay? Matt?" He rubbed the back of other man's jacket, stroking in soothing circles until he was elbowed harshly away. Matthew's eyes were wide and frantic, staring up at the statue.  


  
"He's King George the Fourth and he was fat." Every exhalation was a hard rush through his nose. "The artist made him thinner."  


  
Dominic clenched his teeth together and stared at Matthew's frightened face, every inch of his brain daring him to say something, yet too scared to open his mouth. Slowly, he moved his arm back around Matt, just for stability.  


  
"There's a picture of him in the gallery," came the next whisper, "and then I made coffee." A long pause, and Matthew lifted his shaking hands to his face, covering his mouth. His next sentence was muffled between his fingers. "I made two coffees."  


  
Closing his eyes, Dominic fought to quell every emotion rising in his chest. Every hope and every fear that he'd squashed and dampened and strangled over the last month was squeezing in. Breathing was painful.   


  
"I made two coffees, Dom."  


  
Dominic bit his lip, and then his tongue. The little body at his side began to shake violently with tears that hadn't fallen yet, chest heaving with gasps, and he looked over to see that Matthew's face was crumpling behind his hands.   


  
"Dom," Matt gasped, his eyes still fixed through tears on the statue, _"help, Dom-"_  


  
In an instant, Dominic wrapped both arms around his slim, spasming shoulders. He shut his eyes tight, rocking him gently, stroking wherever he could. A tear tumbled down Dom's cheek and caught in the stubble on his jaw. Matthew buried his face in his neck and gave in, letting out a choked sob into the warm skin there, and clutched Dom to him with both arms around his waist. His fingers dug deep; clinging, clawing.  


  
"I don't understand," he wept, "I don't _understand..."_  


  
_"Shh,"_ Dominic whispered - as much to himself as to Matthew - and felt his own body beginning to tremor. He squeezed tightly and another tear left cold tracks down his face. "It's okay, I promise, I've got you-"  


  
"This is where we m-met," Matthew choked, the words almost distorted beyond all comprehension. His fingertips left future bruises along Dominic's skin. "Right here, by this fountain. Isn't it?"  


  
"Yes," Dom breathed, closing his eyes and burying his nose in Matt's hair. "Do you remember what happened after the coffee?"  


  
"No," came the snuffled response. Dominic felt his heart shrink only to glow again when the shaking of Matthew's head quickly became a nod. "I... we were in the water. In the fountain, I mean. And then you hugged me." He spluttered with teary laughter. "Even now, Dom, you still have no idea how much that hug meant to me."  


  
Dominic held him tight and close, letting the words tumble from his mouth. Each phrase was disjointed and shaky.  


  
"And then Japan. And the waterfall, and I made a portal in a rock, and started building a place for you. I wanted to build somewhere so fucking _perfect_ that you'd never want to leave. Didn't know how it worked, didn't know I was in my own head, I just thought maybe if I tried hard enough then you'd stay in my world instead of going back to your own." He choked on laughter. "You didn't come back that night. We were on the hill and I was being a clingy, sad little shit, and you said you hadn't set your alarm, Dom, and it was so funny because I thought you were some fucking magic dickhead from the sky or something, not a bloke from London with an alarm clock. I loved you more after that. When I knew that you were human, I mean."  


  
"Do you remember our first kiss?" Dominic asked, barely whispering the words against Matthew's cheek. Matt's eyes were now closed and he was beginning to relax as he spoke.  


  
"Sort of. Yes," he answered, and a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. "But no, not really. Not properly."  


  
"No?"  


  
"Everything's images," he whispered. "And maybe sounds, and definitely emotions, you know, things I was thinking, or thoughts I had, but it's like... fucking hell, this feels weird."  


  
"It's okay," Dom hushed him.  


  
"It's like remembering a dream. I don't know what it was like to kiss you, I just know that I kissed you."  


  
Matthew fell silent after that, resting against Dominic's shoulder as his breathing relaxed into a slow, even rhythm. They leaned on each other, wrapped each other's arms against the cold and the steady buzz of life shifting endlessly through the square around them. The water of the fountain lapped against the stone wall they sat on.  


  
"You saw Ghost House," he said softly.  


  
Dom nodded against him, sniffling back a little laugh as he remembered chasing Matt through the asylum with slimy mud dripping from his cupped hands.  


  
_"YOU FUCKED ME IN A POND!"_ Matthew cried out with a delirious giggle, fresh tears running down his smiling cheeks. A man reading a newspaper further along the wall looked up with raised eyebrows. Joy coursed through Matthew's veins and he let out a wild, unrestrained burst of laughter. He felt Dominic's body beneath the palms of his hands and mapped out each solid shape, a new understanding dawning as he recognised the familiarity that he had felt in the other man all along.  


  
"Jesus _Christ,_ Dom," he whispered. "How long has it been?"  


  
Dom shifted in his place on the stone wall and turned his head away slightly to look down at his feet. "I suppose it stopped mattering, so I stopped counting."  


  
"How long, though?"  


  
"I don't know. Months. Four or five months."  


  
"How the..." Matt brushed away the tear tracks on his cheeks, frowning at Dom's downcast eyes, "how the hell could you _wait_ for me like that? Sell everything you own and wait for me? Even after I didn't remember?"  


  
"What if I weren't here?" Dominic answered, pursing his lips down at the floor. "What if you were walking through Trafalgar Square with friends or family and you suddenly remembered? And you knew you loved me but you had no idea who I was, or where I lived, or how to find me?"  


  
"I'd find you," Matt said determinedly, squeezing his arm around Dom's back. "I'd search everywhere before I gave up. I'd fucking... I'd _camp_ in the hospital until someone who recognised you would give me a lead, and I wouldn't stop until we were together again."  


  
"See," Dom whispered, glancing up to catch Matt's eye for the briefest of seconds before turning away again, "and now you understand why I waited."  


  
Matthew stared over at him, forcibly pulling Dominic's chin up when the other man didn't meet his eye.  


  
"I said the most terrible things," he murmured softly, thumbing Dom's jaw, his heart breaking at the gentle pressure of Dominic leaning into his touch to seek out the slightest hint of affection. "I'm so sorry, Dom. I'm _so-"_  


  
"Don't be," the other man cut him off.  


  
"No, idiot, you don't understand," he protested, moving both hands to cup Dominic's face and lean in until they were mere inches apart. "I'm sorry for everything and I'm going to make it better. I'm going to make it okay. I promise, Dom, I'm going to make god damned sure that we were worth the wait. I'm back, my love," he smiled, closing his eyes and pressing their foreheads together, lips trembling as he fought between smiling and crying. "I promise. I'm back."  



	22. Chapter 22

"Are you okay?"

  
Matthew broke the contact between their foreheads and frowned worriedly up into Dominic's eyes. He was constantly averting his gaze; too quiet, too shy.   


  
"I'm..." he started uneasily, before giving the ground a fleeting smile and shaking his head as though to wake himself up. "I'm okay. Yeah, I'm okay. Just weird, you know?"  


  
Matt nodded quietly and ran his thumb along Dom's cheek. "Happy, though?"  


  
When Dominic met his gaze he was instantly aware that the other man was serious in his uncertainty. There was a hurt and a hope and a plea in them that broke his heart.  


  
"Of _course_ happy," he answered with conviction, and this time his smile reached fully into his eyes - he shifted his weight slightly on the stone wall, shuffling closer to Matthew and sealing any remaining space between their bodies. Both of his arms curled more tightly around Matt's waist. "I'm just shocked. Really shocked. But so happy, Matthew," he promised, resting their foreheads back together. His eyes closed and he smiled helplessly into the warm air between their faces. "So, so happy."  


  
"It's okay to be shocked," he whispered in response, eyes still open and watching every inch of Dominic's face.  


  
"I think I'd given up," Dom sighed shakily. His brow creased with a slight frown. "Or, no. Maybe not given up. I'd just come to terms with it. I didn't really think you'd ever remember and I suppose I was finally okay with that."  


  
"I was falling for you anyway," Matt giggled, and he saw Dom grin involuntarily in response. Behind them, a bus roared as it slowly pulled away from traffic lights. _"Again._ I mean, for fuck's sake, Dom, I don't know how you managed that twice, but I'm slipping. I _was_ slipping, I mean. Really fast - I was definitely getting a kick out of flirting with you, you know," he lowered his eyes, "and getting shy and nervous when we went to sleep together, or - or this morning, when I came downstairs and you were making breakfast with your shirt off." He ran a hand over his own face, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Christ, you're always walking around the flat in the morning with your bloody shirt off. I dunno if that was deliberate or if you're just a lazy cunt but it worked."  


  
"You're rambling."  


  
"Sorry, I _am_ rambling, aren't I," Matthew continued, and he glanced away from Dominic's face to focus on the group of students drawing the statue. One of the kids was scribbling on the ground instead of the paper; the damp stone ruined the tip of the pencil and he gave up on drawing any kind of a picture, driving random, bored lines across the slab. When Matt turned back then the tension around Dominic's jawline had dissipated and his eyes were bright and wide, slamming into his own. He wasn't sure how the crisp, cold grey of his eyes were communicating warmth, but they were.   


  
Matt leaned forward slightly and felt the side of his nose accidentally bump against Dom's. Both were cold. His fingertips curled slightly against the sides of Dom's face and he glanced down, eyelashes hooding his eyes as he took in slightly flushed, full lips. Breath misted from between them and ghosted over skin; Matthew was sure it mingled with his own before rising skywards. Dominic's lower lip snagged between his teeth suddenly before being hurriedly released. An unconscious, possibly nervous reaction, Matt thought. His thumb trailed over cold skin until its tip rested just on that lower lip. He ran it slowly along Dominic's mouth, watching the lips part slightly at the touch, and noticed the misty swirls stutter with a hitched breath.  


  
"I'm going to kiss you now," he said quietly. While it was a statement, it was tinted with disbelief.  


  
Their lips lingered less than a breath away from each other, pausing, sharing the same air, neither daring to close the gap.  


  
"First kiss," Dom barely uttered. He felt his lips brush Matt's as he spoke; not in a kiss, but from their closeness.  


  
"Going to spend the rest of my life with you," Matt whispered back, his lips curving and barely grazing the other man's in a smile, "and this is the first time we kiss. The first of thousands of kisses."  


  
"Are you going to do it," Dom breathed, "or sha-"  


  
Matt's mouth rushed to press into his with a little squeak and his eyes fluttered shut in the same instant that Dom's shot open in surprise. Their lips parted for the slightest second before sealing again. Dominic closed his eyes and let himself sink into the feeling of fingers slipping through his hair, scrabbling and tangling, slim lips insistently kissing again and again with warmth and fervour and returned every kiss as urgently as it was given. A gentle, bony weight began pushing at his chest and into his lap as he felt Matthew climb closer. The fingers in his hair had trailed down to cling onto his shoulders. Stroking his hands down Matt's back, he encouraged him closer with a quiet hum and felt an answering whimper into his mouth - a shift, a shiver and the slick heat of his tongue against another, and Matt was resting in his arms.   


  
Matthew kissed like he did everything else; quickly, passionately, and with endless energy. Dominic couldn't help smiling into the constant assault of nibbles and pecks that punctuated the longer kisses, which left his lips swollen in their wake. Slipping his tongue into Matt's mouth, he explored gently and slowly, calming the kiss, soothing with long, heated licks that drew tiny shudders and noises from the body pressed against his chest. Eventually, each kiss slowed until their eyes were open but heavy-lidded, lips parted and flushed, foreheads together once more. Cold air stung at their skin. The students were packing their sketchbooks into backpacks and standing up, kicking at the stone floor while their teacher tried to gather them into a group.  


  
"I don't ever want to move," Matthew murmured into Dominic's cheek, kissing it gently as he spoke, "but fuck, it's cold."  


  
"Freezing," Dom whispered, shuffling, "and I have plans for things that we really, really can't do on this wall."  


  
Matt's face split into a grin and he pressed a long, warm kiss to Dom's lips before grabbing his hand.  


  
"We need to be home," he murmured. "Take me home right now."  


  
*  


  
Matt leaned against the hallway wall for support after dropping his crutches to the floor. He stared back, a shadow of annoyance flickering over his features.  


  
"Matt? What's up?"  


  
The journey home had been a frustrated one, with Matthew constantly torn between the need to use his crutches and the urge to hold Dominic's hand as they walked along. They had rushed the walk home. The only time Dom remembered pausing was on the train platform, where he had put his arms around Matt's middle and nuzzled at his neck from behind. Every second of Matt's walk had been spent stealing glances, now shamelessly appreciating Dominic in a light that he had previously been unsure of. He was his lover now. Those hands would touch him and please him in ways that made his stomach tingle just to imagine. It hadn't taken long for them to get through the front door and pull their shoes off, but now that they were standing face to face in the poorly lit hallway and conversation had drifted into quiet, things had ground to a halt. And now Matt didn't look particularly happy at all.   


  
Dominic stepped nervously towards the other man, waiting for a response.  


  
"It's... fucking..." Matthew groaned, driving the heels of his hands into his eyes in irritation, "legs. Fucking legs."  


  
"Fucking legs?"  


  
"It's - right. Look, Dom," he sighed, bringing his head back into the wall with a thud, "you're just going to have to do me a favour."  


  
Dom nodded quickly; concernedly. He stepped closer and brought his hands to rest on Matthew's hips. "Course, anything."  


  
"Right, you're going to have to pretend that my legs are okay, because they're shit, you know?"  


  
"They're not _shit,_ Matt, they're _fine-"_  


  
"I know, I know, they're not _that_ bad, they're just not _good_ enough."  


  
Dominic's thumbs began drawing little circles into the dip where Matthew's hip bones slid into his jeans. "What the hell are you on about?"  


  
"I want to be fucking... spontaneous, and romantic," Matt complained, waving his arms through the air in a futile attempt to explain, "slam you against a wall and stuff, tell you what to do, not let you get away, you know?"  


  
Dom's eyes were wide, slowly blinking. Half of his lower lip was sucked behind his teeth.  


  
"Okay, that sounded more rapey than I intended." Matt shut his eyes hard, rolling them behind closed lids. "Fucking hell, Dom, there's a reason I try not to talk at times like this."  


  
"You _try not to talk?"_ Dom giggled, and a smile started twitching at the corners of Matthew's mouth as well.  


  
"Shut up," Matt snorted. "I'm trying to say... what the hell am I trying to say." His head thudded back against the wall again. "I'm trying to say that if my legs weren't shit and if I was strong enough, you wouldn't have a bloody _choice_ what happened as soon as we got in the door, and I wouldn't have said anything stupid, and it would've been hot."  


  
"You're an idiot," Dom murmured fondly, and leaned in to place a kiss on Matthew's neck.  


  
"No - no - no - no," Matt yelped, ducking aside, "don't you fucking trap me against the wall. I'm doing the trapping. Fucking - get upstairs. _Go!_ " he waved Dom away, glaring as the blonde fought to hold back a wave of giggles. "Faster, go! Pretend I'm shoving you. I'd be shoving you," he added, slowly following and giving Dom as much of a push in the back as he could. "That was a shove."  


  
"Do you want me to bring this?" Dom paused at the bottom of the stairs, nodding at the shopping bag by the door.  


  
"A dildo seems a bit redundant now, doesn't it?"  


  
"You have no imagination," Dom smirked, snatching it up and ignoring Matt's attempts to frustratedly push him up the stairs. "Alright, I'm going! Fucking hell. I promise, from now on, I do anything you tell me."  


  
Matthew slowly climbed the stairs, huffing out a laugh as he clutched the banister. "This was never going to be a beautifully romantic first time, was it?"  


  
"With us?" Smiling from ear to ear, Dominic helped pull him up the last couple of stairs and into his arms in the bedroom. "Never."  


  
"Against the wall," Matt murmured into his neck. His palms slid under his tshirt and pressed into the flat of Dom's stomach, guiding him backwards. He could feel the muscles underneath bunch and quiver slightly at his touch. "That wall. It'd happen so fast, I wouldn't have time to pick a better spot. You'd just have to stumble back and deal with it. Maybe hit your head."  


  
Stealing a quick kiss, Dom jumped as he felt his back collide with the wall. He glanced down at his feet to kick a small heap of discarded clothes aside and immediately felt long, slim fingers force his chin back up; a hot rush of lips met his, and as his eyes closed in response, he felt Matt's body pin him to the wall, small and weak but determined, gently moving against him.  


  
His heart soared and he smiled into Matthew's mouth, earning him a sharp bite to the lower lip in punishment. It didn't matter; he kept smiling.  


  
It was Matthew. _His_ Matthew, real, alive, and loving him.  


  
Dom's breathing sped up as Matt's hands pressed deeply into his abdomen, fingers massaging circles into the hot, sensitive skin just below his stomach. A middle finger slipped into his naval and a completely unexpected shiver ran up his spine at the gentle intrusion. Matthew withdrew his tongue from where it was softly lapping at the insides of Dom's mouth to speak quietly into his ear.  


  
"There were at least three empty alleyways on the way home that I wished I could have shoved you into," he breathed, his lips brushing at Dominic's earlobe. Head rolling back into the wall, Dom's eyes flew open as the hands left his stomach and smoothed his tshirt down before sliding to cup his bum, which was squeezed and cradled. He found himself wishing that the fabric of his skinny jeans wasn't so stiff; he could feel himself being touched but - combined with the way Matthew was now suckling at his earlobe - the contact wasn't enough.  


  
"Matt," Dom groaned, wrapping his arms around his back and pulling the smaller body so tightly to his that he had to spread his legs. _"God,_ Matt. That's - fuck," he whimpered at a little thrust of Matthew's hips, which pressed deeply between his thighs.  


  
"Does that feel good?" Matt murmured, rolling his hips again and feeling his pulse rocket at the helpless, strained noise it drew from Dominic's throat. "Never done this before." He dropped a kiss to the hard, hot cords of tendon in Dom's neck and then scraped his teeth across the kissed skin, biting gently. "Want to make you feel good, Dom. You deserve to feel so good."  


  
"You've no idea how many times I've dreamed about this," Dom whispered to the ceiling, closing his eyes and letting his body fall mercy to the passionate attack of lips and fingers and teeth. Sweat was beginning to prickle beneath his clothing. He began to pull his shirt over his head only for Matthew to take over; it was only when his jeans had been pushed halfway down his thighs that Matt paused and his fingers froze, curling slightly in on the denim.  


  
"Jesus Christ, Dom."  


  
"What?" Head cocked to one side.  


  
Matthew was trailing his fingers across the soft cotton of his boxers, his eyes raking over the bulge in them. One of his hands cradled it from below; grunting softly, Dominic fisted his hands in the fabric of Matt's shirt as he was touched.  


  
"You're quite big, aren't you," Matt murmured, palming the bulge and feeling his stomach flutter at the sheer bulk of Dom's erection straining against his hand. "There is no way you were this big in my mind."  


  
Dominic bit his tongue and grinned, teasing the lower hem of Matthew's shirt up over his abdomen. He could just see slivers of pale skin flashing beneath it as he moved, occasionally interrupted by a fine line of dark hair. After briefly coaxing the shirt higher, Matt conceded and wriggled out of it. He immediately returned to fondling the other man's cock and this time pushed Dom's underwear all the way down.  


  
"I've never called another man's dick beautiful before," Matt smirked, tracing the ridge of a thick vein, "but Dom, you've got a _beautiful_ dick."  


  
He knelt before receiving a reply, cradling what was now a thoroughly swollen cock in both hands, and began a fascinated and thorough exploration with his fingers. Breathing raggedly, Dominic watched from above, taking in impossibly slim, pale shoulders slightly hunched in concentration; veins stood out harshly along Matthew's arms and the backs of his hands from the heat of the room, but the skin they stood out from was almost white. As Dom watched Matt leaned in, nuzzled into the warm thatch of hair at the base of his cock, and trailed feather light kisses into the soft crease there.  


  
"Fucking beautiful," he repeated, and drew back to line his mouth up with Dom's cockhead.  


  
The first kiss to his cock was soft, slow and filthy, and Dominic felt his knees go weak. Matthew's lips gently pressed around the tip and made a wet, slick sound as they closed, sucking delicately on the pink, flushed head. Shuddering, Dom bit at his lip. Matt's small, sharp features were lit with innocent curiosity as well as arousal. Occasionally, Matt would look up with wide blue eyes to check if he was bringing Dom pleasure.  


  
A thrill sparked through his lower back as Matt brought two fingertips to either side of his tip, stretching the tender slit there. He didn't have enough time to register what was about to happen before Matt's head swept downwards and he ran his tongue in a wet, shivering swipe across the tiny, exposed hole.  


  
"Y-yes," he moaned, his insides quivering as Matthew licked it again, _"yes-"_  


  
Fighting not to fall to his knees, Dom pressed his weight into the wall to take the strain off his shaking legs as Matt continued to lap away at it, the nerve endings so bare and sensitive that it almost hurt.  


  
Tasting precome, Matthew drew his tongue back in and took the whole of Dominic's cock into his mouth. His eyes rolled back into his head while he sucked, head sliding back and forth, relishing both the texture of prominent veins slipping past his lips and the weight of the thing on his tongue. Thick; full. It leaked fluid into his throat and he swallowed, feeling a swell of pride despite the strange taste.  


  
Matt's hands had found a natural resting place in the twin dips at the base of his back but one began to stray lower, wriggling between the wall and Dom's bum. The temptation was to slip it all the way down and tug at his own cock, which was now straining painfully for attention against his thigh, but the desire to fully worship Dominic's body overrode his own needs.  


  
"Mmnn," Matthew hummed around the dick in his mouth, trying to prise Dominic's legs further apart. As soon as Dom complied, Matt briefly turned his head to spit on his fingers, wet them, took the saliva-slicked cock back into his mouth and began to worm his fingers upwards. His middle fingertip had to push carefully at the Dom's centre before it spasmed briefly and invited him in.   


  
"Oh-shit-yes," Dom exhaled shakily, the words blurring together. Matt was in him and he was in Matt and he couldn't hold himself together any longer.  


  
It was that finger in him that began to drive him over the edge; it was that long, insistently probing finger that was gently working away at Dom's insides, slipping in and out of his hole, delving into that tiny, sensitive entrance and delicately fucking it with the slimmest, _slightest_ of intrusions that had Dom moaning like a whore. Matt worked his lips over and over his cock, taking it to the hilt and milking Dom's cock with his mouth at the same time as he added a second finger, squeezing it inside and feeling hot, spasming walls of muscle reflexively draw his fingers deeper into Dom's body, welcoming them. Matthew let out a muffled moan at the silky sensation of Dominic's insides shaking at his fingertips. As Dom felt them explore the sweetest, deepest place in his body, his low moaning warped into cries of bliss.  


  
"Fucking - _y-yes,_ Matt, I'm gonna come-"  


  
Matt fought not to smile around Dom's pulsing cock, continuing to suck, curling his fingers and overwhelming his body with a crippling wave of pleasure. In that moment he knew that he would swallow.  


  
"Please, baby, I'm gonna - I can't stop it, Matt, I'm coming," he wailed, unable to resist snapping his hips forward, "I'm fucking-"  


  
Warm, sticky fluid shot to the back of Matthew's throat. He felt his eyes water as he shut them tight, bracing himself against Dom's final, helpless thrusts. Suddenly his mouth felt full; the urge to spit or cough overcame him but instead he let his fingers slip wetly from Dom's hole and released his still-stiff but spent cock. Eyes still shut, he gulped once, swallowing as much of Dom's fresh seed as he could. It slid thickly in his throat. Trying again, he determinedly flexed his neck but it tickled and he choked,  bony shoulders spasming. Something hot and sticky was trickling down his chin.  


  
A shaky hand cupped his jaw and he found his head tilted upwards, gazing shamefully up at Dominic, who instantly slumped to his level. The blonde's mouth was hanging open. Gasped breaths came between them, some still carrying traces of moans.   


  
"Sorry," Matt spluttered, a string of come dripping and clinging to his chin. Dominic took his head in both hands and looked adoringly down into wide, apologetic blue eyes. Matthew's rounded lower lip shone and his chin was completely coated with white fluid. He gulped, gasping and swallowing the last of the stickiness in his mouth - in a split second Dom pounced and crushed their mouths together, knocking him onto his back. Matt's head collided painfully with the floor but he kissed back with feverish energy and wrapped his legs around Dom's bare waist, finally finding the friction that he so desperately craved.  


  
"Hey," Dom stilled his hips, wincing as the smaller man began to shamelessly grind upwards into an area which was currently far too sensitive to take that kind of pressure, "ouch."  


  
"Sorry," Matt repeated, smiling. He lay beneath Dom and wrapped his arms tightly around his back, smoothing his palms in circles over the gradually cooling skin. Their bodies tangled as Dominic recovered.  


  
"I love you," he mumbled into Matthew's hair, burying his face into it. "You're beautiful and I can't believe you're here, and I fucking love you."  


  
"Is it too gay if I say that there's no way you love me as much as I love you?"  


  
_"Way_ too gay."  


  
"Mmm," Matt nodded, peering down at where Dom's head was settled on his collarbone and affectionately teasing his fingers through damp locks of blonde hair. "Oi."  


  
"Nnngh?" Dom mumbled sleepily into his chest.  


  
"Come on, get up. Don't you dare fall asleep. I'm nowhere _near_ finished with you yet."  


 


	23. Chapter 23

Dominic felt a sharp series of prods to his chest and hauled himself to his elbows reluctantly. The cool rush of air between where their bodies had been laying flush together soothed his skin; he stole a quick kiss from Matt's cheek as he fell backwards onto his haunches.

  
"Get on the bed," he told him, watching appreciatively as Matt sat up and his cock dropped from resting flat on his stomach to standing between his legs, its weight obvious. Matt got to his hands and knees and crawled onto the mattress, flopped onto his side with a grunt, and then rolled onto his back to groan. One hand was already petting his dick just gently enough to tease it to full hardness.  


  
"Oh my god," he murmured to the ceiling, wriggling his bum against the duvet to get as comfortable as possible, "we're gonna fuck."  


  
Dom grinned distractedly over his shoulder and snatched up the shopping bag from earlier. A tiny, disbelieving smile spread over Matt's face when they made eye contact.  


  
"Not quite yet," he scolded playfully. His fingers began to pull open the rectangular box inside the bag. "It'd be a shame for you not to try this out like you wanted. I'm going to have a good play with you first."  


  
Matthew shivered and leaned up on his elbows to watch as the contents of the box slipped out and onto the duvet. Prising the dildo from the packaging, Dom handed it over and started unwrapping the batteries.  


  
It was fabulously glittery, sparkling in all its absurd purple glory even in the low light, but Matthew restrained a reflexive snort of laughter and stroked up and down its shaft. The texture and size were _everything_ he'd been looking for. Not intimidating  but enough that he knew it would do a wonderful job of stretching him fully and delving deep down to places his fingers just couldn't reach. Thick veins and ridges stood out just far enough to bring him to bite his lower lip at the thought of how they'd feel slipping in and out.  


  
"I want to ride you," he confessed without taking his eyes off the toy, "I mean, I really did, but then I remembered, you know, the legs. I probably wouldn't have the strength to make it much fun. A bit disappointing, really. This, though," he pouted approvingly at the toy, "will more than make up for it."  


  
Dominic shuffled closer until their shoulders touched and gently pushed Matthew backwards into the pillows. Though he stole the toy to load it with batteries, it was then abandoned, dropped to somewhere on the bed beyond a mound of duvet. Matt briefly craned his neck but felt a warm palm to his chest and caught his breath, laying back as he was shushed.  


  
"No, you need to be properly prepared first," Dom told him, and his hands moved to tuck behind Matt's knees, pushing upwards into the taut dips that lay between tendons to push the smaller man's legs upwards and open. Matthew whined, one of his feet bouncing up and down impatiently on the mattress.  


  
"I _am_ prepared," he insisted, glaring at the ceiling. "Fucking - look at my dick! That's a prepared dick."  


  
"Your dick has nothing to do with how prepared you are," Dom breathed, kissing the inside of one of his knees before squeezing a blob of lube onto the tip of his finger and smoothing it over the digit.  


  
An annoyed growl sounded from Matt's throat. "For fuck's sake, just - I _want it_ , Dom, I don't _care,_ I-"  


  
His next word escalated into a shriek of shock as Dominic's middle finger plunged into his body to the knuckle, curling upwards. He felt his insides squeeze and tremble. Realising his back had arched up off the bed, he tentatively lowered it, seething at the ceiling.  


  
"Prepared, are we?"  


  
Matthew's fists clawed and twisted the sheets. Dominic drew his finger out slightly and then drove it back in, twisting gently. It already reached deeper than Matt had ever managed on his own. The tiny, vulnerable whimper that burst from his lips spiralled upwards in pitch, a truly pitiful sound, and Dom was overwhelmed by the urge to comfort him. Still fingering, he curled up close to his lover's side; his head lay on the side of Matthew's chest and he felt the hard, parallel bumps of ribs against his cheek. Matt's lungs quivered with shaky breaths beneath his ear. Dom placed a second tip of a fingertip at his opening and waited for the muscles to open up to draw him inside.  


  
"Dom," Matt whispered at the sensation, the name a prayer.  


  
Dominic twisted his neck until his lips brushed fleeting kisses across Matthew's chest; he nibbled and sucked at writhing dips and bony curves, lips curling back and biting until the milky skin was marred with pink stains that spread like paint through water. Matt squirmed with agitation.   


  
"Sorry," Dom mumbled against his skin and kissing away the flare of red where he had most recently bitten, "do you want me to stop?"  


  
Matthew shook his head and pushed his fingers through Dom's hair to bring him closer again. The assault of bites and kisses resumed and left tiny patches of warm saliva in a dotted pathway down his ribcage, venturing ever higher; he was just getting used to what was now a mercilessly passionate combination of teeth and fingers when Dominic's teeth scraped higher over his chest. Sensitive skin tingled as the tip of his tongue darted over one of Matt's nipples, barely wetting the tip of the pink bud. Without warning, Dom bit down.  


  
Matt cried out in shock, his whole body jerking. Pain and pleasure crackled through his chest in unison; his nipple was flushed a painful red which was then soothed with gentle, wet suckles and licks. They calmed the pain but did nothing to alleviate the pleasure, which sent his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he submitted to the rhythm - bites, licks, teeth scraping, soft kisses, more biting - despite the way that his cockhead was now steadily leaking.   


  
It was so unlike him, he thought, to lie back and take whatever he was given. He was always on top. _Always_ in control. He was never the subject; he had never known what it meant to quiver with lust at the hands of someone more dominant. His back arched at a particularly sharp bite and the sigh that fell from his lips was a satisfied one. To be worshipped by another man was _glorious._  


  
Dominic soon looked down to realise that his fingers were slipping in and out of Matthew's body easily. His lips left his thin chest with a tiny bubble of saliva and he pulled his fingers gently from Matt's arse, leaning over and taking the dildo from where it lay amongst the folds of the duvet. Blue, heavy-lidded eyes watched intently as he slicked lube over the toy's shaft.  


  
The head of the dildo pressed at his centre and stretched it open - it was swallowed by Matt's body, disappearing inside as Matt moaned around his lip, which he had drawn up into his mouth. His foot twitched nervously in the air from where his knees were folded back. Finding Matt's hand with his own, Dom laced their fingers together. The next few inches of the vibrator's shaft would hardly budge.  


  
"N- _ngh_ ," Matthew gasped out. "It's..."

  
"Shh," Dom hushed him, "stay still."  


  
He pushed in slightly harder, changing the angle, and felt Matt's body relent slightly. A wave of pleasure flooded through the smaller man as the dildo was eased further into his belly.  


  
"Dom - _fuck -"_  


  
"It's okay, baby," he whispered, squeezing his hand.  


  
"I can feel it stretching," Matt moaned, and his fingers scrabbled for purchase on the bed, "it's - is that all of it?"  


  
Dominic shook his head, biting his lip, feeling his fingers shake slightly with arousal as the base of the toy slid home, now fully buried in Matthew's virgin body. Without hesitating, his fingertips found the button on its base and he pressed it inwards. The vibrator immediately came to life and sent a shockwave of bliss coiling through Matt's spasming, straining body, and he let out a wail.  


  
"Now it is," Dominic told him, moving closer to hold him properly. Matthew quaked in his arms as the thing purred in his gut and he squeezed his eyes shut with pleasure, gently rocking his hips. Each happy gasp hit Dom's neck with a warm burst of air.   


  
"Oh my god," Matt said unsteadily. He clinged tightly to Dom. "Oh my god. Oh my god."  


  
"No-one in my life has ever looked as hot as you do right now," Dominic groaned into his ear. He began using his new position to rub up against Matt; it wasn't quite relief, but it was enough. One of his hands snaked behind his back and he started to ever-so-gently finger himself. "So dirty, Matt. Look at you, you're a mess. A dirty little mess."  


  
"Fuck me with it," Matt mewled, "Dom, it's driving me mental like this, do it properly and fuck me."  


  
Dom felt his brain melt with desire and grinned lewdly against Matt's forehead. Trailing his free hand down, he found the base of the vibrator, slowly slid the toy out and then squeezed it back inside his body again.  


  
A shudder rippled through Matthew's whole frame and he whimpered into Dominic's shoulder. Each thrust of the dildo sent a filthy throbbing sensation through his lower body and he gradually lost control - pistoning his hips downward, he began to try and fuck himself between the toy and Dom's body which lay above him. Where previously he had begun to messily kiss at whichever part of Dominic happened to lie in front of his face, Matt was now biting - almost gnawing - in a feral desperation to be closer to the other man.  


  
_"Dom,"_ he groaned, "take it out, get it out now."  


  
"Who said we were taking it out?" Dominic smirked up at him, slipping his fingers out of his hole to push a damp section of Matthew's fringe away from where it was plastered to his face. "I want you to fuck me like this."  


  
The smaller man panted softly, his eyes closing in exertion. Confusion furrowed his brow. "Like... like this?"  


  
"Exactly like this," Dom purred, and he rolled, bringing Matthew with him until they had switched positions. Matt let out a helpless gasp of ecstasy as the movement pressed the vibrator into a sensitive spot.  


  
"I can't," he answered breathlessly. Kisses began tracing over his forehead. "Can't, Dom, I'll come."  


  
Pursing his lips in amusement, Dominic cupped Matt's skinny bum in his hands and dug his nails in until his lover writhed in pain. Ten red curves marked the white skin, tapering off into horizontal scrapes where they were ripped away. Matthew buried his face in Dom's armpit and hissed. Admittedly, the pain had brought him back from the edge.  


  
"Still too close?" teased Dominic, kissing one sweat-dampened cheekbone.  


  
Matt shook his head and pushed himself upwards on shaky, skinny arms until he was between Dom's legs. A sticky, fine trail of fluid dotted across the blonde's abdomen, tracing the path of where his dick had been lying moments before. He licked his lips nervously and realised he could still taste Dom's come.  


  
"Okay," he murmured, pushing Dominic's knees back. He quickly kissed Dom's forehead before pressing the plump, rounded head of his cock inside.   


  
Dominic's head fell back and damp strands of blonde hair stuck to his forehead. His mouth hung open and he let Matt shallowly thrust into him, over and over, each stroke eliciting a blissful groan. The first time he felt the thick swelling of Matthew burying himself completely inside, his back arched. At that depth he could actually feel the vibrator humming in Matt's tortured body. He couldn't count the number of times he'd lain in this exact spot and fantasised about this exact situation, but to actually see Matt physically love him - to actually hear each moan, to feel the heat burning between them, and to bury himself in Matt's scent - that was a kind of pleasure he had never felt before. Each thrust came deeper and longer and sweeter until Matthew began to lose control again. The rhythm began to fall apart. Matt struggled to keep fucking but his body was quaking with frustration.  


  
Matt suddenly felt something coil up inside Dom. Maybe he'd just hit somewhere deeply sensitive, or maybe it had just been the other man shifting his hips, but either way it pulled deliciously at his cock in such a way that a wave of pleasure coursed through his already overloaded system. The urge to come was painful. He cried out, pressing his forehead into Dom's chest and shutting his eyes tight.  


  
"If you don't pull that fucking thing out of me then it's going to make me come," he gasped, arching his back.  


  
"You can come," Dom murmured, soothing him. The cords of Matthew's throat stood out, taut and tense, and he ran a finger down the length of one. Matt shook his head frantically.  


  
"Not yet; _with_ you."  


  
Dominic moaned with delight, nodded, and blindly reached a hand down, finding the base of the toy and wrapping his fingers around it. He tried to tug it out as slowly as possible but it was plugged firmly into Matt's taut, tight arse. Biting his lip, he pulled harder.  


  
Matthew screamed as it was pulled free far too fast, every cell of his body overwhelmed with the crippling need to come, hard. His cock delivered a tiny squirt of fluid even as he held back.  


  
"Fuck," Dom grunted at the noise, wrapping his fingers around his own cock as his own orgasm neared. "Nearly there baby, just keep fucking, get nice and deep, you can do it."  


  
Matt bit at his shoulder, thrusting in, and Dom's bitten skin muffled his cry. "Dom-"  


  
"That's it," the blonde moaned, and he rocked his hips backwards to bury Matt deeper, "fuck me, fill me up-"  


  
Each of Matthew's fingernails scraped red lines down Dom's sides and he wailed deliriously as his cock steadily pumped white juices into the other man. Hot semen shot between their bodies and formed a sticky, smeared puddle on Dominic's belly which began trickling sideways into the sheets; he continued to roll his hips until he had milked Matt dry, determined to wring him of every drop of pleasure and come that he possibly could. The smaller man whimpered and collapsed against his chest.  


  
Matthew was fully aware that his shocked gasps sounded ridiculous; they were almost soft cries at every in-breath, which gradually phased out as the aftershocks of pleasure started to fade in intensity. His muscles which had been shaking in exertion before were now shaking with boneless exhaustion. Dominic was softly whispering loving, trembling things into his hair. His sex utterly spent, he pulled out and curled up in the crook of his lover's neck to slowly recover.  


  
For a long time there was only the sound of tired, happy breathing and the snuffling sounds of Matt crawling insistently closer to steal quiet kisses. Somewhere outside a siren faded in and out as an ambulance passed by along the road outside. Dogs barked in a garden nearby. The boiler hummed as it heated the house.  


  
"I've never been happier," Dom breathed into the warm air around them. "Honestly, I reckon, never been happier."  


  
Matthew reached up to stroke his face. His hand was still weak; the fingers trembled. "Can do it again if you like."  


  
"No you can't." Dom smirked.  


  
A wide, toothy grin spread across Matt's face and he wriggled happily. "Maybe in a bit. Maybe nap first."  


  
"Maybe nap," Dom repeated, threading his fingers through dark, wildly messy hair, "then maybe food?"  


  
"It's not even three in the afternoon."  


  
Dom's mind was already drifting, his eyes roaming across a slight patch of damp on the ceiling. "We could make pancakes," he thought, "and then take the syrup upstairs with us."  


  
If Matt's smile could have widened, it would have.  


  
"That's it," he whispered sleepily. "That's our plan, I reckon, for the rest of our lives. Nap, eat, fuck."  


  
The room lapsed into silence once more, save for the rustling of sheets as they were pulled on top and, not long afterwards, the twitches and shuffles of sleep.  



	24. Chapter 24

Four pancakes, three hours and two orgasms later, Matthew rolled lazily over to drape himself across Dominic's chest.

  
"Which do you like more, boats or planes?"   


  
Considering the question, Dom settled a hand in Matt's hair and slowly teased his fingertips through the strands. They clumped together slightly with drying sweat. Dominic loved it.   


  
"Um," he thought, letting his head loll back into the pillows, "planes, if you mean as machines, but boats when it comes to travelling. Planes are incredible machines."   


  
It had been downstairs in the kitchen, when the only thing breaking the silence in the room was the sizzling and spitting of frying pancakes, that Matthew had realised he had no idea whether to put sugar in Dom's mug of tea. Actually, he had no idea whether he took milk either, though he assumed so, because people who don't put milk in tea are doing it very wrong. At any rate, it had been a strange thing, to ask the man he knew he would spend the rest of his life with about how he drank tea. It seemed to be something he ought to know by now.   


  
The question had sparked deeper thought. What, for that matter, did Dom do in his free time? What was his favourite meal? His favourite film? Did he use mouthwash? Was he good at sudoku? Did he like pets?   


  
This was how the question game had begun.   


  
"What's your favourite colour?"   


  
Matt answered instantly. "Blue. No, red. Yes."   


  
"Blue, or red?"   


  
"Red!"   


  
"Are you sure?" Dom walked his fingers along the other man's spine, each nub of bone a stepping stone. "Very important question, this. It'll end up being the basis of every decision I make about things to buy you in the future."   


  
"Like you have money to buy me anything," Matthew retorted, playfully gnawing at the ridge of muscle that sloped between Dominic's neck and collarbone. "Did I see duct tape holding the shelves in the fridge together?"   


  
"You did."   


  
Matt sniggered into his shoulder. "Why, you resourceful thing."   


  
Rolling his eyes, Dominic's wandering fingers reached the back of Matthew's neck and he scratched gently into the warm hollow there, causing the other man's back to arch with delight. Matt purred in appreciation while considering his next question.   


  
"Do you like camping?"   


*

  
_It was the third time that one of the tent poles Matthew had been waving carelessly around had cracked Dominic across the shins. Kicking at it, he hopped over the mess of canvas and guy ropes on the floor to snatch the instructions off his boyfriend._   


  
_"You said you'd put tons of tents up before," he muttered, squinting to read the tiny print in what was now a dusky twilight._   


  
_"I said I'd done lots of CAMPING before," Matthew retorted, toeing the substantial pile of bent tent pegs and bending down to pick up the mallet. "Like, caravans and stuff."_   


  
_"You said you knew how to put up a tent."_   


  
_He shrugged. "You only asked in the car on the way here. I mean, I figured, how hard can it be?"_   


  
_"THIS is how hard it can bloody be!" Dominic scrunched a fist in his hair, angrily staring Matt down. "We've been here two hours, haven't eaten since Bexhill-"_   


  
_"Three hours."_   


  
_"-three hours, Matt, it's fucking dark, and we don't actually have anywhere to sleep."_   


  
_"Alright, calm it, let's just... let's just build a fire."_   


  
_"A fire?!" Dominic screeched. He dropped the instructions to the floor. They were useless anyway. "How the fuck's a FIRE going to help?"_   


  
_Shrug. Shuffle. "...Marshmallows?"_   


  
_Seething, Dominic stalked away from the collapsed, mangled mess of a tent, pulling his coat further around his shoulders as he returned to the car. The moment the sun had gone in, the air temperature had plummeted. He slid into the driving seat and slammed the door behind him before crossing his arms and huddling into the chair, flicking the heating on as far as possible. It roared from the vents on the other side of the dashboard, so far doing nothing but blowing the still-cold air into his face._   


  
_In the final glow of dying daylight he stared coldly through the windshield at where Matt had now wriggled into the tent and was attempting to prop it up with poles from the inside. Dom could just see the rounded top of his head bobbing beneath the canvas, and occasionally the jutting angle of a hand where he desperately tried to keep the tent from flopping down around him. A tiny twitch of a smile pulled at the corner of Dom's lips as he saw the whole thing deflate as the tent poles failed, leaving a small, Matt-shaped column of tent standing sadly amongst a heap of camping equipment. All of a sudden the canvas was flung off and Matthew stamped towards the car, kicking tent pegs out of his way as he walked. He wrenched the passenger door open and dropped into the seat._   


  
_"Fucking stupid fucking things anyway, tents," he spat at the dark field they were parked in, "I dunno what sadistic cock gobbling cuntflap wankmongerer invented them but he deserves a fucking punch to the dick."_   


  
_The car was silent apart from the heating vents. Then Dom began laughing._   


  
_It was the tiny, quiet, shaking kind that starts in your smile and then spreads down to your shoulders, where your eyes close, and you let out the first actual burst of laughter that lights the fuse and then you're helplessly spasming with uncontrollable giggles. Matt's contemptuous frown gradually slipped from his face and he began a high pitched giggle, which only pushed Dom into further convulsions until he was slumped over the steering wheel._   


  
_"Oh my god," he laughed tearfully, wiping at his eyes and sitting back to face Matt, "where the fuck are we going to sleep?!"_   


  
_Matt shook his head, mouthing the words 'I don't know' through silent sobs of laughter. He leaned backwards between their seats and tugged a shopping bag towards them, rummaging around in it and then passing Dom a bottle of cider._   


  
_"Cheers," Matt giggled, swapping his own bottle to the other hand so that he could link their fingers together somewhere between the gear stick and the handbrake. That night they lay curled up together on the back seat in the same sleeping bag, just drunk enough not to feel the cold, lazily kissing and listening to the crackly tones of Dusty Springfield coming through the car radio._   


*

  
"Yeah," Matthew nodded his head. His fingers were tracing between the fine, soft hairs that were scattered down the middle of Dominic's chest. "I prefer non fiction, I like reading it more than novels. I mean, when I was much younger, I preferred fiction, you know, lots of stories?" He lay his cheek down over Dom's heart and shrugged one skinny shoulder. "But after a while, I guess I kind of realised that my favourite stories were the ones that said something about the real world. The best ones had some commentary to make or like, a parallel, maybe, to draw with non fiction. So yeah," his lips curved against the other man's skin, "I like reading non fiction these days."   


  
Listening with rapt attention, Dominic thumbed little circles into the side of Matthew's body; he could feel the bump of ribs beneath the skin. He could also see - just below the mess of hair tickling his chin - the faintest trace of Matt's scalp showing up white amidst the black. The clearest streak of scalp ran in a strange, jagged gash that didn't match with his parting, and Dom realised with a start that it was a scar.   


  
"How did you get the scar on your head?" he asked.   


  
Matt paused.   


  
"What scar?"   


  
"The big one," Dom asked, tracing along it with one fingertip. It crossed his skull diagonally, starting near his hairline - just above his left eye - and running backwards.   


  
"Don't know," he answered. "Must be from the car crash. I have a little scar on my arm that I don't remember, too, over the elbow," he added, and he lifted it up so Dominic could see. It was faint, but the slightest of pale marks zig-zagged across the point of his elbow and trailed upwards, up the back of his arm and towards his shoulder.   


  
"Oh yeah," Dom nodded, touching it gently. "I see it."   


  
"Is it obvious?" Matthew asked. He sounded anxious. "On my head, I mean? Can you see it through my hair? Does it look weird?"   


  
"No, no, nothing like that," Dominic reassured him, stroking his fringe back from his forehead. "I only just noticed it."   


  
Relieved, Matt lay back down and resumed exploring the other man's body with his fingertips. He chewed on his lower lip while thinking about what to ask next.   


  
"What do you do at Christmas?"   


*

  
_While the phrase 'food coma' left a bitter taste in his mouth, it perfectly described the state both of them had slipped into. Dom's eyelids fluttered in sync with the firelight. His nose was slightly squashed against the side of Matt's head, but he couldn't bring himself to move; he lay in a warm, cosy pocket between the back of the sofa and Matt's body. Not even the occasional shrieks of Alfie and Ava playing upstairs could stir them._   


  
_Dominic could feel the solid angles and planes of the other man's back curving to fit his chest, its smoothness only interrupted by the occasional bump of spine or ribs. His fingers tightened slightly in Matthew's tshirt and beneath the fabric he could feel the smaller man breathing in his sleep. It had taken all of ten minutes for him to drift off in front of the fireplace; the combination of cuddles, wine and Christmas dinner had left Matt feeling very full and very sleepy. Dominic could feel his small tummy quietly gurgling beneath the palm of his hand and his lips twitched contentedly. Each time he cracked his eyes open, he could see fine strands of Matthew's hair silhouetted against the flames in the fireplace. Orange light danced off the cream walls and the Christmas tree, which stood in the very corner of his vision as a mass of twinkling multicoloured lights._   


  
_"Are you awake?"_   


  
_The question was hushed and cautious, and Dominic twisted his neck to see Chris leaning over the back of the sofa to hesitantly check on them. His face split into a grin._   


  
_"Trapped," Dom told him, shrugging with one shoulder and prodding at Matt's belly, causing him to grunt and shuffle before resuming normal sleep._   


  
_"Let me know when he wakes up, we've still got mince pies to eat yet," Chris told him. "I'll put the kettle on. And I'll try my best to keep the kids out of here, though, you know, no promises."_   


  
_Thanking him, Dominic settled back into the sofa and let his eyes slide shut just as Matthew began snoring noisily. He began grinning helplessly into the nape of the other man's neck._   


  
_Dom loved the sound of Matt's snoring. Coma patients don't snore._   


*

  
"What's the stupidest thing you've ever done drunk?" Matt asked.   


  
"Oh, Christ," Dom ran a hand down his face, looking down to see Matthew's eyes wickedly bright with anticipation. "I don't know. That one's going to take some thought. I still have that photo of you passed out, by the way."   


  
"What photo?" Matt's expression flashed from eager to worried in a nanosecond.   


  
"That one from Tom, with the pizza on your head and the whipped cream all over your chest."   


  
"Oh my god." Matt paled. "How did you even _find_ that?"   


  
"It was in your flat," Dom snorted. "Can I meet Tom?"   


  
"Yes. Definitely."   


  
"Holy fuck," Dom suddenly realised, almost sitting up and dislodging Matt from his chest, "is he the same Tom from Ghost House? 'Don't-shit-yourself' Tom?"   


  
_"Don't-shit-yourself Tom,"_ Matthew repeated as he collapsed giggling, his chest shaking, "I'm calling him that forever from now on. Jesus Christ, he's going to hit me. Right. Your question."   


  
"Hmm," Dom smiled, "do you remember your dreams?"   


*

  
_Matthew lashed out as he jolted awake, his eyes shot wide with fear. Tears streaked down his cheeks. He felt his arms tremble at the force with which he had them folded over his chest, where his fingers dug into his sides. Despite the panic with which he had woken, he was still lying on his back, albeit in a far more strained and taut state than before. Realising he was holding his breath, he gasped in a fresh gulp of oxygen. The pale cords of his throat and collarbones stood out harshly every time he sucked in air, and tears were now drawing straight lines between the corners of his eyes and the tops of his ears. The first sob left his lips and he tried to curl sideways into the mattress; his face contorted with despair at the images the nightmare still left branded into his mind. The blood red of the sky islands and split skin clouded the backs of his eyelids._   


  
_It was always a few moments before he realised that Dominic was already holding him. Every time it happened then it took a while for his senses to kick in; to feel arms around his body, hear gentle whispers against his hair, or see the blur of a thumb as it stroked just below his eye, along the ridge of one of his cheeks. Those moments of despair never lasted long. They shattered the moment Matt realised he wasn't alone, at which point they warped into something far more volatile._   


  
_Elbowing backwards, Matt felt his arm connect sharply with the sensitive flesh of Dom's stomach. He was wild, clawing, fighting away the duvet covers until he had Dom pinned and squashed beneath him. One skinny forearm crossed the blonde's throat - not hard enough to choke, but hard enough to ensure he stayed exactly where he fucking was. The duvet slipped away from their thrashing bodies and onto the pine floorboards of the new and spacious bedroom that they now shared._   


  
_"Never real," Matthew spat, delirious. "Prove you're real."_   


  
_Nodding quickly, Dominic stretched an arm out and began fumbling at the mattress behind his own head, reaching blindly until he could worm his fingers beneath the soft weight of his pillow. His breaths came quick and shallow against the restraint of Matt's arm, but each one was even. After a moment of struggling, his fingertips closed on the spine of a slim book, which he tugged out and cracked open to where a yellow post-it note marked their progress._   


  
_"Rainbows only occur when sunlight reflects off raindrops at an angle of forty two degrees," Dominic read aloud._   


  
_He immediately felt the weight against his neck lift as Matthew abandoned him, rolled away, and picked up his laptop to boot it up from standby._   


  
_It was a system they had developed quickly. Matt would awake from his nightmares convinced that he was still trapped in Synapse - that Dom was an imperfect product of his imagination, that the world around them was not real, and that he was still unlikely to wake from his coma - and no amount of reassurance would console him. The only way Dominic had ever been able to calm his paranoia was to read an obscure fact from the book that now lay permanently beneath his pillow. Matthew would then frantically switch on his laptop to verify the fact over a multitude of different websites and media - reports, scientific journals, videos, photographs - until he was convinced that the evidence gathered was beyond the reaches of his imagination._   


  
_He never allowed himself to even touch Dom's book of facts. They needed to be unique and incredible. They contained the evidence that he lived in reality, and he couldn't bear the risk of making contact with that evidence in case his mind tainted it. Perhaps it was paranoia, but the illusion of control was enough to comfort him and, as a brilliant man once said, our only universe is perception._   


  
_Dominic watched as the wide, teary stare of Matt's eyes scanned the computer screen again and again over countless web pages until his gaze began to droop, satisfied to the point that he softly closed the lid and lay the laptop down beneath their bed. As always, his thin shoulders slumped with shame in the low light._   


  
_"I'll get better soon, I promise."_   


*

  
Giggling, Matt had wrapped his arms around Dom's neck and was clinging on while engaged in a violent foot war, which he was currently winning due to Dominic's restricted vision. He ignored the blonde's splutters of protest and pinned his feet down, legs writhing and kicking, until he felt the softest, slickest of kisses slip just below his jawline and he froze, distracted. Still lapping gently at Matthew's throat, Dominic took the opportunity to push him further. He arched his hips and rolled, pushing the other man into the mattress with ease and without breaking the suckling kiss on his neck. The foot war fell apart with Matt's satisfied sigh and they found a new position in the bed.   


  
"You're ever so easy, you know," Dom grinned into his ear.   


  
"You cheated, wasn't fair," Matthew shot back, kicking playfully.   


  
"Mmm," Dominic disagreed, and he sucked delicately on Matt's earlobe. "Sounds like denial to me."   


  
"I get very competitive. I take these things _very_ seriously."   


  
Dom's grin widened. "Do you play any sports?"   


*

  
_Dominic's eyes narrowed as he sized up the fairway before him. The wind blew at approximately four miles an hour in a north easterly direction off the coast; he adjusted the angle of his seven iron to counter the crosswind it would create. Bending his knees, he glanced back down at the ball and prepared to swing._   


  
_"FORE!" came a scream in his ear, followed immediately by the crack of Matt's palm across his bum. Dom jumped and swore loudly, almost dropping his club._   


  
_"Oh my god, that's IT," Dom yelled with mock rage, "that is the LAST time. Fucking - get over there!"_   


  
_Matt was doubled over and choked with giggles; he yelped with laughter as Dom made as though to swing the club at his head and leapt backwards, out of range._   


  
_"Further," Dom demanded, grinning. The club was still extended in his grip, brandished like a weapon that banished Matt several metres away from where the ball lay. "All the way. Get off the tee. From now on you're forbidden from standing within ten feet of me when I take a shot, you little shit."_   


  
_Matt's mocking pout flashed into a mischievous grin the second that Dom turned his back. He'd get him again on the putting green._   


*

  
"What's the weirdest thing you've ever had to go for hospital for?"   


  
Dominic's head lolled sideways to lock gazes with Matthew. They now lay side by side - he on his back, Matt on his front - and the fingertips of one of his hands trailed absentminded scratches over the small of the other man's back. Matt's head lay on his arms, tilted sideways, and scruffy spikes of his hair tickled at his forearms. At his armpits, a soft thatch of dark hair was barely visible against the deep blue bedsheets.   


  
"Weirdest thing I've gone to hospital for?"   


  
Matt inclined his head briefly. Dom watched him blink slowly and swallow, the movement rippling down his throat.   


  
"Besides dating a comatose midget?"   


  
The smile that spread across the other man's face widened until his crooked tooth was visible, poking out just beyond his lips.   


  
"I don't know," Dom continued as his gaze wandered over Matthew's face - the hint of stubble grazing his jawline; the soft lines around his eyes when he smiled; the shadows painted below his cheekbones. "Once I got my head stuck in a chair and the ambulance and the fire bridgade had to come to get me out, though, does that count?"   


  
Matt spluttered. "You w _hat?"_   


  
"I dunno," Dom giggled, "I dropped my wallet and kind of leant down through the arm of a chair, and - stop laughing - and picked it up and tried to back up, and my shoulder was stuck, and I was just kind of left sprawled over the chair."   


  
"Why the fuck did you lean _through a chair?!_ " Matt choked.   


  
"It just _happened!_ " Dom retorted, rubbing a hand over his eyes and trying not to laugh. "It just... I don't know, okay. I just got stuck and then they cut me out of the chair and then I decided not to dwell on it any longer."   


  
"Jesus Christ. I got stuck in a tree once, but that's... that's something else."   


  
"Oh, fuck off."   


  
"Never," Matt grinned, shuffling closer. "Your question. Go."   


  
Taking Matthew's hand in his, Dominic wound their fingers together. "What do you want from this relationship? I mean, where do you see us, ideally, way in the future? What happens to us?"   


*

  
_Matthew felt his eyelashes brush cotton and slowly blinked into the pillow. Sunlight streamed in parallel strips between the creamy curtains and painted the walls a warm white before leaving irregular, bright shapes across the folds of the sheets. He opened his eyes to watch the light filter through a lazy cascade of dust particles and rush into his eyes, drawing his brows into a squint and his pupils down to pinpricks. The bright, flecked blue of his eyes began to recede back as he adjusted to the morning light and stretched his mouth open in a silent yawn._   


  
_Blinking sleepily out of the yawn, he felt clarity seep into his mind and his heartbeat leapt slightly, stuttering faster as memories of the previous evening flooded to the fore of his consciousness. Suddenly his eyes widened and darted sideways with total awareness, though lines of exhaustion still painted slight shadows under their pinkish rims. Matthew twisted sideways onto his back and then rolled to face the other side of the bed._   


  
_Dominic was asleep on his back, but he was facing him; strands of blonde hair were splayed out across the white pillow, and his boyfriend's face was slack with peaceful sleep. The bedcovers had pooled in a heap around his hips in the warm room. On his chest, a tiny baby boy lay curled up beneath a protective hand, which Dom was resting gently on his back._   


  
_Squirming closer without taking his eyes off their son, Matthew's lips parted slightly and he felt his heart topple in zigzags between his ribs at the sight of the baby's face scrunching up and yawning softly into Dominic's chest. A pair of identical blue eyes slid open to stare into his own, completing the slightly startled yet curious expression that graces the faces of all newborns. Matthew propped himself up on one elbow and felt the sheets skim his bare skin, his thoughts wandering to the night before._   


  
_Dominic had been the first to hold their baby, reaching out with brave, tentatively outstretched arms to take the weight of him from the nurse. His smile could have lit the room as he softly spoke to the sleeping bundle for the first time._   


  
_"Hey, little one," he'd whispered, holding the tiny weight as closely into his arms as he could. Matthew felt his breath catch in his chest as Dom ever-so-carefully handed him over and he instantly cradled their baby to his body. So incredibly light and fragile. He had no idea how to angle his arms in a way which would be comfortable. He had no idea how to stand. He knew the neck had to be elevated. He was terrified of dropping him._   


  
_"What the fuck do I do with it?!" Matt yelped with an air of delirious, delighted panic, sparking a giggle from Dom, who wrapped his arms around his new family._   


  
_The baby had been born worryingly small and had been in an incubator for the last few days, with dark, fluffy tufts of hair and bright blue eyes that they had yet to see for themselves. There could be no mistaking whose blood ran in his veins. Dominic had never expected to have children by any method other than adoption anyway; he had quickly made it clear that any child of Matthew's was a child of his own. He had only questioned that decision once - incredibly briefly - when they had almost been ejected from the fertility clinic after Matthew had been heard yelling encouragement at his own sperm through the ward's door for the entirety of the procedure._   


  
_Dominic had spent the ride home from the hospital in the back seat beside the baby as it lay buckled into the new car seat. His gaze barely wavered from its sleeping face. The moment the car had rolled to a halt in the brick driveway outside their house, a quiet gurgling noise sounded from the bundle of blankets, and Matthew had practically dived between the two front seats in excitement.There had been ten minutes of tearful, delighted hushing and cuddling in the darkened back seat. Then the wailing had begun._   


  
_He was a shouty little thing; demanding and impatient, with obscure needs that no Google search could direct either of them towards. They resigned themselves to a sleepless night until about five in the morning, when Dominic suggested nestling the baby between them in the main bed. Being surrounded by warmth and bodies apparently had a calming effect on him, because he had finally slipped off to sleep half an hour later._   


  
_Now grinning at the baby lying on Dominic's chest in the morning sunlight, Matthew reached out and stroked his forefinger down its cheek. A tiny hand flapped uselessly, reaching out, and Matt held out his finger so that it could be grabbed. Letting out a small squawk of interest, the baby squirmed happily beneath Dom's hand._   


  
_Tanned skin stirred against the bedsheets and Matt tore his gaze away. When Dominic's eyes opened, they were red-rimmed with fatigue but lit with love; his free hand scratched an itch on his stomach before winding around Matthew's pale back and dragging him closer. Matt gifted Dom's smiling lips with the gentlest of kisses before settling where he belonged, curled against his chest._   


  
_It was there - with Dom's heartbeat beneath his head and their baby wriggling restlessly between them -  that Matthew felt a surge of completeness rush through him. His fingers traced down a vein in Dominic's arm._   


  
_He knew in that moment that he would never have survived without Dominic, and he knew that their son would never have existed if he had never survived. His heart soared and ached at once at the simplicity of it; of the chain reaction that had brought him out of reality and into it again, and of the stark certainty that the birth of their first child was not an event of resolution or conclusion, but a wild, strange new beginning._   


  
_With that thought, he drew closer into the heat of Dom's embrace and craned his neck down to lay a kiss to the baby boy's forehead. The three of them lay tangled in the sheets that morning in a perfect, impossible triangle._   



End file.
